


This Secret We're Keeping

by DefectivelyFlawless



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Multi, Sexual Tension, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-11-23 07:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefectivelyFlawless/pseuds/DefectivelyFlawless
Summary: If you asked Jon what started it all, he would probably clench his teeth and grumble, "those fucking skirts."Sansa, on the other hand knew it was wrong, to say the least. At the beginning of all this, she just wanted to follow the path of her life plan, and ignore Jon Snow for the rest of her school career until she no longer had to deal with him.Unfortunately, fornicating in forbidden relationship with her English teacher, did not fit in with those plans.





	1. First Impressions Are Always Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my name is Sara and this is the first time I have written for this paring. Yes, I have succumbed down the rabbit hole when it comes to this ship. I hope you enjoy reading this. 
> 
> Just a heads up, grammar and punctuation are my weakest point so please excuse any errors I have put forth. Also constructive criticism is much appreciated. 
> 
> Side note: I do not condone student- teacher liaisons in real life. The basis for this is purely fictional.

Sansa always liked to think of herself as a good girl. She strived to be the model student, coming home with good grades, being a member of most of the after-school clubs, and being the perfect daughter and sibling for her family (although Arya might disagree with this); she was lady through and through.

Growing up, she hardly ever was in trouble with her parents and never had a problem avoiding trouble and authority. While her siblings- Arya mostly- would receive lectures from their parents for trivial matters such as fights, she would always aim to be docile and resolve the matter, hating confrontation.

When she finally reached secondary school, she had most of her life planned out for the future. She would graduate with the highest awards and grades, go to one of the most prestige universities in the world, and hopefully she would find a man who was charming and handsome with whom she would fall in love with him, get married and have three kids later on in her career.

She would mention her plans to her family every chance she found; her father nodded while her mother smiled proudly, praising her ambitions. Not everyone appreciated this though. Arya would roll her eyes and joke about the type of boyfriend that she would have- a blonde snobbish brat with a stick shoved up his arse (Catelyn reprimanded her for that comment with a glare). Robb cracked his knuckles and while giving her a pointed stare, stating that he will meet her boyfriend before anything happens.

Sansa gave them both a dirty look.

Later on, during the moments of passion, she recognised her own naivety back then, remarking how young and inexperienced she was. Lying in bed, she let out a dark chuckle on how she believed her life would drift exactly the way she wanted it to. She could not be further from the truth.

With a glance at the strong arm, thrown across her waist, Sansa realised that falling for _him_ did not fit into the typical ideal life she had for herself.

If only her family knew, how far she had strayed from her original plan.

* * *

 

  **3 months ago**

The Literature class full of eighteen year olds, had only been one month into the school year when old Mr Pycelle’s heart gave up. They figured it must have been the stress of educating eighteen year olds for the past thirty years, combined with the announcement that his retirement was officially another twenty years off. Lucky for him his heart restarted after about five minutes. Unfortunately (or fortunately in Sansa’s case) he was wheeled off to receive surgery, thus the class were told they would receive a new teacher.

There were no complaints there.

Sansa never like the old man. There was a dark and pungent aroma that hung off him, reminding her of rotting death.  She struggled not to grimace whenever he leaned near her desk to look at her work. She certainly was not sad to see him leave and hoped that his replacement would at least be a few years younger, and not wheeze out every sentence as if something was stuck in his throat.

Despite not likely the teacher, Sansa adored Literature. She had a particular preference for the old romance stories such as Jenny of Oldstones or Florian and Jonquil. The stories made her grasp onto the hope that maybe her love life would turn out as exciting and swoon worthy as the classics.

At the moment, Sansa did not feel very romantic as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a frown etched on her face, inspecting herself in the mirror, making sure her appearance was flawless. With a glimpse at her uniform, she smoothed out her blazer and skirt, breathing in deeply.

The school’s standard requirement of a black skirt, white shirt with a striped blue tie combined with a blazer, clung to her body, highlighting her soft curves. The skirt was a few inches up her knees, much to her mother’s shock (she had stared in horror when glancing at it for the first time).

Personally, Sansa liked the skirt as it allowed her to feel confident with her body. And her best friend, Margaery claimed it brought out her best part- her long legs. She remembered how her brother, Robb had given out a few black eyes for those whose eyes had wandered too far down her legs during her first year at the school.

With a final glimpse at the mirror, she grabbed her bag and shuffled out of the bathroom, almost running over a young boy who blushed when he met her eyes. She ceased his stuttering attempt to apologize with a small smile and strolled past, turning a corner into English- last lesson before lunch.

With a firm push of the old classroom door, she stepped inside, her eye already noticing her friend, Jeyne sat in the back, next to her seat. She had her hand raised for a wave and her mouth open, ready for a greeting when she saw _him_.

At first, she thought he might be an exchange student, or even a student teacher, given how young he was. He was leaning against Mr Pycelle’s desk, his arms crossed in a white checkered button up, with the sleeves were rolled to his forearms. Sansa dazedly observed the clenching arm muscles every time he shifted his weight. His legs, clad in black khaki pants, crossed at the ankles.

Drifting her eyes up to glance at his face, she noticed how young his features were. She estimated that he must be a few years older than her. His hair was dark and tied back. She briefly thought whether it felt as soft it looked if she was to run her hand through it. A jolt ran through her stomach, which she quickly dismissed, firmly establishing the feeling as inappropriate if her instincts was correct and he was the new teacher.

The man lifted his hand up to scratch at his beard while his mouth was set in a firm line, as if he was afraid anyone would say anything to doubt him. Her mind traitorously decided to remind her how good he looked, disregarding the notion that he might be the new teacher. His dark eyes swept the classroom, taking everything in. Including her.

He paused briefly, his eyes locked onto her blue ones, his expression unreadable. A shiver ran down her spine, while she stood frozen to the spot while clutching the edge of her black skirt tight in her hands. She willed herself to move, but it seemed as if her legs forgot to function under his stare.

At the back of her mind, Sansa wondered why the room had become silent all of a sudden and realised why as she glanced around, breaking the eye connection. They were watching her as she was stood on the spot, a few curious glances thrown her way, wondering why she was stuck on the spot like an idiot.

The silence seemed to jolt him out his daze as he stood up straight and cleared his throat loudly. He motioned for her to get to her seat while avoiding her gaze with a clenched jaw.

 Sansa hurried over to Jeyne, hardly daring to look in his direction, keeping her eyes directly in front of her. She let out a breath of relief as she sat down. She had no idea why she acted the way she did noticing that the feeling was dangerous, making her feel out of control and less grounded. She felt- just a little bit- naughty, as his eyes meet hers.

Throwing her red locks over her shoulder, she settled back into her chair. She tugged on her school tie, pulling on the collar as she unknowingly felt hot all of a sudden.

Jeyne was already full steam into what she'd heard about the latest couple- how they'd met, what she'd been wearing, how long they'd been friends, how long it would last. Sansa listened with half an ear and listened to the new teacher with the other. He was introducing himself - writing it on the white board, not the smart board – Mr Snow. A hush fell over the class as he started to speak, his voice deep with a northern accent. Sansa swallowed with difficulty.

"Ladies in the back," Mr Snow called out. "If you don't mind, I do have a lesson today."

Most of the class turned to look at them. Normally, Sansa would have given a weak smile and nodded, just like Jeyne was doing now. But today Sansa felt different which scared her.

"Sorry, Mr Snow. It won’t happen again.” Her voice came out smoothly with a subtle purr, making Mr Snow falter from his stoic expression. She saw a brief emotion flash in his eyes, too quick for Sansa to catch before moving on.

Her best friend, Margaery, a row away shot her a questioning look before turning around. Sansa did not know what to think. Confusion settled in her stomach. She had no idea why she acted the way she did. All she knew was that something was going to change this year. She just didn’t know what.

_“_ So, my name is Mr Snow and this is my first year as a teacher, so I don’t know much about teaching a class full of students. And obviously you guys don’t know me so let’s get to know each other a bit today.”

Beth Cassel, the girl who sat next to Sansa, shot her hand up quickly. “Can we ask you questions?”

Mr Snow looked surprised, but shrugged. “If you want.”

“How old are you?” she asked swiftly, causing him to let out a smile.

“Twenty-two,” he told her.

Sansa stared at him in surprise. She knew he was young but did not realise he was that young. The youngest teacher in her school was in their forties but this guy was only twenty- two. Did that mean he received a job fresh out of university?

“Are you single?” Loras Tyrell, a guy sitting in front asked, making the class erupt in laughter.

Mr Snow looked shocked for a minute, but then rearranged his features into a smile. “I am in fact single, also very much interested only in women.”

Sansa noticed Loras looked slightly disappointed which quickly shifted into a smirk as Oliver, a blonde guy leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

She shifted her eyes forward, regretting the motion a second later as her gaze met Mr Snow’s. He froze for a minute, staring at Sansa with the same unreadable expression as before. She blinked at him, and he quickly looked away. Confused, she lowered her gaze to the floor, a tingly feeling settling in her stomach.

“What’s your first name?” another person asked.

“Jon, but none of you are allowed to call me that.”

_Jon Snow_. A feeling of excitement ran through her body and she repeated the name in her head a few times, liking the way it sounded.

Sansa could not help but feel a little bit annoyed with the new teacher. It had only been a few minutes into the lesson and he was already disrupting her controlled emotions. She felt conflicted, with him or herself she was unable to answer.

The class continued to have a question and answer session with Mr Snow. Sansa observed that he was a kind and friendly person to converse with. He encouraged his students for their questions, rarely becoming annoyed with them. She knew this was a warm welcome in regards to most of the other teachers in the school, whom would look down upon students her age, speaking in a patronising tone towards them; he spoke to them as equals.

Despite this, he barely looked in Sansa’s direction. His eyes would quickly drift to the next person, avoiding her gaze. She did not know why this grated on her nerves so much. Normally she could not care less whether or not Mr Pycelle picked her, but somehow Mr Snow easily irritated her through purposefully avoiding her.

Afterwards he handed out the course expectations and list of materials they would need for this year, and left the class to chat amongst ourselves. With a raised eyebrow Sansa, noticed the flock of girls who surrounded his desk, chatting to him animatedly. A shot of satisfaction ran through her, as she spotted his dislike in his situation, through the stiffness of his body but still kept a reasonably interested expression.

The clicking of heels in her direction, made her turn her eyes around to recognise Margaery approaching the evacuated desk next to her, and plop down in the seat with a smirk painted across her face. With a stretch of her legs Sansa turned to face her, sighing deeply.

“So, what do think about the new teacher? He’s better than Pycelle at least,” Margaery questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“I suppose he’s okay as long as he does his job properly,” Sansa casually shrugged.

“Even if he doesn’t at least he’s hot to look at. I mean I would not mind coming into school on a Monday and looking at him first thing,” Margaery said with a coy grin, glancing in the teacher’s direction.

“He’s not that good looking,” she rolled her eyes. It is only because he’s the youngest teacher at this school.” Sansa hoped she came across as disinterested as she fiddled with the edge of her blazer.

Margaery turned her head towards Sansa, narrowing her large brown eyes.

“Okay, either you have accidently become blind last night and is unable to actually see how _hot_ he looks. Or you are clearly lying through your teeth because you do find him good looking but do not want to admit it to yourself.”

Sansa prayed her flushed cheeks were not visible to her best friend.

“I’m just saying, he’s old and not my type. Besides it is illegal for any student to fornicate in a relationship with him, no matter how hot you think he looks,” Sansa pointed out.

The period soon ended with the ring of the bell, with the rest of the class filing out of the room. Sansa quickly folded her newly acquired papers into her bag as fast as she could, hoping to get out of the room first.

“I’m going ahead,” Margaery told her, standing up. “I don’t want to be late for the lunch queue otherwise I’ll be caught up with the younger kids. I’ll see you at our table.”

“Wait!” Sansa hurriedly demanded as she tried to shove the rest of her things further into her bag. “Margaery!”

But Margaery barely heard her demand as she was out of the door while Sansa fought to quickly zip her bag up. She stood up in a rush and quickly hurried out to follow her best friend, only to trip over a desk leg. She landed flat on her face with a loud smack on the ground.

Red- faced, she pushed herself off the ground, freezing when she noticed Mr Snow kneeling next to her. She dazedly questioned to herself, how did he get here so fast?

“Are you okay,” he questioned with furrowed eyebrows, sounding concerned.

She nodded stiffly towards him before standing up straight and trudging towards to exit. She hoped to all the Gods up in the sky that nobody with eyes had seen her little incident. If that wasn’t the definition of embarrassing, then she did not know what was. She heard him chuckle to himself as she exited, her face still burning.

“Be more careful next time, _Sansa_.”

She hated how good her name sounded when he said it in his tone.


	2. Nice Shirt, Sir

Growing up with one sibling is bad enough, but when you have four siblings in a house, chances are that it will most likely turn out to be a riot. Sansa loved her family, even if they drove her insane sometimes.

She drove up the narrow path towards her house. It stood at the end of the road, separate from all the others. You could have already seen from a far distance, it was a relatively large house. The door was placed in the centre of the brick house, a square window (divided into quarters) on each side of the door. It was simple from the outside but Sansa knew that it was the people inside that made it feel like _home_. Her father mentioned that the house had a name which our ancestors called- Winterfell.

She stepped out of the Cadillac, turned to close the door behind her, and ambled towards the faded red door with chipped paint. Reaching for her bag she took out a shiny key, slotting the object into the key hole, with a soft push, she stepped inside.

The aroma of lemon cakes and was the first thing she noticed, the overpowering smell hitting her face. Removing her blazer and folding it- just like her mother taught her- she placed it on the hanger, next to the door. Rolling her sleeves up to her wrist, she took a step forward, feeling her shoes brushing the soft rug while the smell of lemon cakes grew heavier as she approached the kitchen.

The smile on her face grew, spotting her mother sitting on one of the stools, near the kitchen counter, with a magazine placed in front of her. The sound of Sansa walking in, drew her eyes up to her daughter, a loving smile rising on her face.

“Hey, honey. Did you have a good day at school?” Closing the magazine, she turned to face her daughter.

Sansa nodded casually. “The same as always, I guess. Where’s the others by the way?”

“Your brother’s out in the back, with Theon. You just missed Bran, he’s gone to Jojen’s house and Arya still not back from school yet.”

“What about Dad?” Sansa questions.

“Still at work. He’s taking care of a tricky client.”

Catelyn lets out a worried frown, pursing her lips.

“Speaking of tricky, when you see your sister, tell her I found Gendry’s shirt lying around in her room when I was cleaning this morning. That’s the second time I have found the boy’s clothing there, so make sure you mention it to her.”

Sansa grimaces, thinking of the reason why Gendry’s shirt would be in Arya’s room in the first place. Nodding towards her mother she says, “I’ll tell when I see her.”

Sansa knew her little sister would not obey with her mother’s request. Gendry and she were a complicated duo to comprehend. There have been several instances in which the whole Stark family has teased Arya for her occasional trips to his house, or Arya dragging him for family vacations.

But there have also been even more claims from Arya, vehemently denying any notion of them being together, with a roll of her eyes.

 Sansa knew from closely inspecting Gendry’s face, by mentioning her sister, that he was head over heels in love with Arya. His face would light up, a smile threating to break across his face, blue eyes softening when talking about her. 

She also knew that her sister was the most stubborn person she had ever come across of knowing, so she would deny her own feelings for him, hoping to ignore it for as long as possible. Sansa hoped she would own up to her obvious feelings and admit it to him. Letting out a soft sigh, she knew it would be horribly romantic, a classic ending- just like her romance stories.

That was the difference between Sansa and Arya, not just appearance wise. They both have very distinct personalities. The former is regarded as a princess by her family members, the latter-a tomboy much to Catelyn’s disapproval. It is no surprise that they would have issues understanding and empathising with each other. They have little common ground, except their last name. Most of the vicious fights that occur within the house has been between the two of them. 

But at the end of the day, both sisters knew they admired certain aspects of each other, even if they would not admit it out loud. When push comes to shove, everyone knew both of them could be very protective of each other.

Catelyn gives an adoring smile towards Sansa, “You’re such as good girl, Sansa. Always doing what you are told. That also reminds me, I was hoping to catch one of you anyone because I want you to go introduce yourself to the new neighbour that has just moved in from across the road. She’s very nice, judging from the meeting I had with her this morning.”

Sansa gives an accepting nod, “Sure. Do you want me to take something for them?”

“Yes, take the apple pie on the counter, but be careful not to burn yourself because I’ve just took it out of the oven.”

With a nod of the head, she bundles up the stairs towards her room, narrowly missing, bumping into her youngest brother Rickon, running around with his equally furry, four-legged friend- Shaggydog.

“Rickon, be more careful where you are going,” she snaps.

Looking up at her with wide blue eyes he mumbles, “Sorry, Sansa.”

Being dubbed the ‘Wild Wolf’ of the family, Sansa’s heart melted, unable to stay annoyed with him for too long.

“It’s okay. Where are you off to in such a rush anyways.”

“Robb promised he would take me to the park with him and Theon.”

Narrowing her eyes, she said “Did he, now?”

After living in a house with her older brother for most of her younger life (before he left to move in with his girlfriend Talisa), it was safe to say that Sansa knew when her brother wanted to avoid certain situations, or in this case-meeting the new neighbours.  

With a roll of her eyes, she made a mental note to speak to Robb later on, ditching her to deal with them alone. Trudging up to her room, she changed out of her school uniform into something much more comfortable- jeans and a sweater.

A few minutes later she found herself standing opposite a blue door, raising one hand up to knock, while the other was clutching an apple pie wrapped in a cloth. She heard soft footsteps from the other side, preparing herself with a wide smile on her face and a greeting on the tip of her tongue.

A beautiful woman opened the door, clad in an apron and bright yellow gloves. She had long brown hair, with warm grey eyes, staring at Sansa, at this moment with a curious but welcoming expression. Sansa instantly felt at ease in her presence.

“Hello, my name is Sansa Stark. I live across from you, and my family and I just wanted to welcome you into the neighbourhood. You must have met my mother this morning.”

Lifting her hands up she motioned to the steaming pie that was still placed on a plate. “A simple courtesy from the Stark family.”

Beaming, the woman waved her hand inside, motioning for Sansa to come in. “Of course, thank you very much. Come in, my name’s Lyanna. Let me give you a piece of the pie. It would be rude of me not to offer you, given your kindness.”

“Oh no, no, no I couldn’t,” she politely declined.

“Please, I insist. It’s only me and my son who lives here and we cannot eat this by ourselves.”

Sansa hesitated before grudgingly accepting the woman’s offer. Her mother did say to become friendly with the new neighbours, so did not see any harm in it.

“My son is just coming home from work, he should be here in a few minutes. Would you like some tea, coffee or perhaps another drink?”

Sansa decided she liked this woman. “Just water please, ma’am.”

Giving her a glass of water, the woman shook her head with a lazy grin, “Just call me Lyanna. I’m not old enough to be called ma’am just yet.”

Lyanna was easy to converse with, Sansa discovered. She was outgoing, friendly and cared for her son fiercely. She was just about to leave, knowing her mother was wondering where she was when the front door opened.

With the turn of her head, Lyanna beamed at Sansa and declared, “That must be my son, come on I’ll introduce you two. You’ll get along.”

Sansa curiously followed Lyanna down the hall, but the deep voice made her pause in her steps. Glancing at the figure in front of her in disbelief, she found lost for words.

You have got to be _fucking_ kidding me. Of all the chances, she thought incredulously.

“Jon!” You’re back. Come here I want to introduce you to our new neighbour. This is- “

“Sansa!” he was glancing at her with a raised eyebrow. “How fortunate to see you here.”

Flushing, she blurted out “I brought pie.”

His eyebrow raised even more. She could see a hint of amusement in his eyes.

 _Bastard_.

She scowled. Sansa knew he was enjoying her embarrassment. Lyanna on the other hand just looked confused.

 “What type of pie, Miss Stark?”

“Apple,” she shortly retorted.

He shrugs. “It’s not my favourite. Not tripping over chair legs then, I see.”

“That was one time, and it was an accident,” she narrows her eyes on his smirking face.

“And here I thought that you were falling head over heels.”

Gritting her teeth, she could feel her dislike for _Mr Snow_ growing. With a glower in his direction she said, “Excuse me, Lyanna. I’ve just remembered that I have to take my little brother to the park.”

“Sure, dear.” She said with furrowed eyebrows. “It was nice to meet you. I hope we’ll see you again soon.”

“ _We_ sure will,” Jon drawled out with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

“I hope you enjoy the pie, _Sir_ ,” she sweetly utters, walking away without a second glance in his direction.

* * *

 

 Sansa did not like him.

Two weeks had passed and he had managed to get on every bad side of Sansa, so much so that she scowled and scoffed every time he talked in lessons. In contrast, he had most of the girls in the school raving about him, much to Sansa’s disgust. 

She knew he was purposefully ignoring her when she raised her hand to answer a question, choosing other people instead of her through the way he avoided her stare.

English was her strongest subject. She was good at language, writing fluent words and phrases in her essays and stories. It developed from all her reading she had achieved when growing up. Despite this, Mr Snow, did not realise this talent, or was ignoring it, in Sansa’s opinion.

Most of the essays she produced would get good marks but not perfect. She would look at the papers in disbelief after getting it back, staring at the nine out of ten, nineteen out of twenty or twenty-nine out of thirty.

She knew he marked her work like this on purpose because it annoyed her. She could see a smirk at the corner of his mouth, when she glared holes in his direction.

“It’s still an A, Sansa,” Jeyne would roll her eyes.

But to Sansa, it bothered her greatly, knowing it was not good enough. It was only one point that he did not give her, and that is why it was not perfect.

His name was the only feature she liked of him. Snow was her favourite season, reminding her home; feeling warmth from sitting in front of the fireplace, and the sound of childhood laughter resonating throughout the Stark household.  She remembered her brother Robb, especially laying in the snow outside, snowflakes stuck on his auburn curls. The memory made her smile.

“Miss Stark?”

She jerked from her thoughts, focusing on the dark-haired man in front of her, calling out her name while staring intently at her.

“If you choose to make the decision to stop day dreaming in my lessons, then perhaps you’ll be able to achieve the mark you so desperately desire in your essays.”

A bunch of snickering from the students in the class made her blush red.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’ll not happen again,” she shuffled embarrassingly.

He gives a short nod. “See, that it doesn’t.”

Sansa just wanted to ignore him until she graduated, then she would never have to deal with him again by moving to another city for university. For now, she was forced to deal with him.

On his second day he came in, declaring that the class would be scheduled new seats for the rest of the school year. The problem for Sansa was he had placed her on a table full of people she did not know. And so, she was stuck conversing with them when necessary, every conversation awkward and short.

There was Robin Arryn on the end of the table. He was a spoilt child who still dotted on his mother despite being eighteen years old. He was underweight and pale as if he never went outside for exercise or sunlight. He was interested in first person shooter video games that she was unable to name. He was weird but tolerable.

Ros was sat opposite her. She was a chain smoker who had sex in more positions that Sansa ever knew, and bragged about them during every lesson. Sansa did not understand how she managed this, and so assumed she was easy, leaving it at that. Ros was, in particular associated with Theon, (her brother’s best friend) his name was said more times than Sansa cared to count. They mostly disregarded each other during these lessons.

The person who sat next to Ros was an overweight boy named, Sam who enjoyed English just as much as Sansa did. Despite being teased about his weight, she found him sweet, quiet and intelligent, allowing Sansa and him to bond over thoughtful discussions about their favourite books. Jeyne knew him because her friend Gilly had a crush on him. A notion, Sansa knew would make him blush red to his roots if he knew about it, as the crush was mutual on both sides.

Sansa, on the other hand, had no one sitting next to her at the beginning, until she consistently persuaded Mr Snow to move her friends, Jeyne and Margaery on her table so she would have someone decent to talk to about the work (Ros glared at her for her comment). He moved only Jeyne on the table, who sat next to Robin while Margaery stayed where she was.

The thing that confused and annoyed Sansa the most is that he sat five people on an eight-person table, while everyone else had the equal amount on their table.

He had also placed her on the front table, directly in the eye sight of his desk. Everyone knows that teachers place the naughty kids in the front in order to keep an eye on them.

Sansa did not understand why. She was not a naughty student, her essays were always submitted on time, she rarely arrived late to his lessons and did not go looking for trouble. She just knew that she could not stand Mr Snow and his smug face.

At home, she would rave heatedly about him to her family, until it got to the point when they were tire of her complaints.

But Sansa also knew that he was the only person in the school (apart from Sam) who understood her love for literature, which makes her even more irritated. That’s the other feature she admired about him- his passionate nature about his subject. Other girls would admire his hair and beard, which Sansa secretly admitted that it suited him.

She often wondered how long he spent perfecting his beard and how it would feel against soft skin.

She often wondered what he would look like without a beard.

But then, she would get aggravated, wondering why the hell, she spent so long wondering about Mr Snow when she could not stand him.

* * *

 

His shirts irritated her the most.

He only wore two button ups. A black one, plain and simple which she thought he wore deliberately to match his beard and hair which is also dark. The second one he wore was white, a shade of grey spread on the collar.

The day he walked in with a red shirt, it was safe to say, Sansa almost fainted.

She was sitting down on her table, waiting for him to walk in, while checking a text message from her mother on her phone. The sound of the door opening made her glance up and spot him, shuffling into the room with the new colour shirt on.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide and disbelieving, shifting her head round to see if anyone had spotted it. Everyone was oblivious, causing Sansa to tap Jeyne on the shoulder.

She curiously glimpses at Sansa’s shocked face, “What is it?”

“Look at Mr Snow, he’s wearing a new shirt today.”

Jeyne give a slow blink. “So?”

“What you mean so! He wears only two shirts every single day, the white and the black. And today he had just come in with a different colour shirt. Why are you not surprised?” she demands waving her hands around.

“Sansa, you are the only person who cares about that,” Jeyne rolls her eyes. She sly smirk appears on her face. “Maybe you have a crush on the teacher.”

Sansa cross her arms. “Don’t joke about that. Beside he’s not my type. He owns only two pairs of shirts. I could never be with someone like that.”

Mr Snow at that point decides to join the table. “What could you never do, Sansa?”

“Nothing, sir.” She sweetly smiles at him.

“Well in that case, take out your book and answer the questions I’ve just put on the board, which you would have seen if you were not too busy chatting.”

Abruptly closing her mouth, Sansa nodded. She paused briefly, looking at the shirt in front of her. “That’s a nice shirt, you’re wearing, sir.”

Mr Snow falters for a second, looking astonished before smiling softly. “Thank you, Sansa.” He walked away to help a kid in the back with his hand raised.

“You were so flirting with him just then,” Jeyne states a coy grin spread against her face.

Sansa rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, that’s just…wrong.” She struggled to find the correct word for a second.

It was not as if she loathed the idea of being with an older man. Most of her celebrity crushes were on older men. People like Henry Cavill, Colin Firth and Hugh Grant made her stomach do cartwheels whenever she watched their movies. Just the other day, she was gushing about how charming a young Colin Firth is to Margaery on the phone.

So, she knew she did not have a problem with older men.

“It may be wrong but even you have to admit that older men- “

“Sansa, Jeyne. Will you please stop talking about irrelevant subjects and get on with the work,” Mr Snow exasperatedly demands.

With a sigh, they both quieten down and try to answer the question on the board- ‘What do you think is the most significant scene from the play and why?’

Sansa gives out a small scoff. She knew that his teaching methods would be uncreative and monotonous. He was a textbook teacher, choosing questions from the book rather than making it up.

Letting out a groan, she begins to answer the questions. She finished a few minutes away from the bell ringing, closing her book to the front cover. This catches the attention of Mr Snow who comes over to their table to inspect what work they have done.

Sansa picks up her pen, chewing at the end of it, while crossing her legs one over the other. Mr Snow looks up from Sam’s work, catching her eye. She sees him pause briefly, his eyes darkening for a second before he looks away, his eyes focusing intently on the work in front of him.    

Sansa’s stomach unknowingly clenches. Confused she drops her gaze, her cheeks burning. Annoyance builds up inside her body. She did not know why he changed his shirt, only that it made her mind jumbled on the fact that he looked _good_ in it. Especially as it clung tight to his body, bringing out his dark eyes even more.

Dismissing her thoughts, she concentrated on Mr Snow’s final messages for the lesson. He wrote two names on the white board of those who are ‘hard workers’ for the week. This week he wrote up the names of a boy nicknamed, ‘Hot Pie’ and a girl called Myranda.

Sansa could not help but feel disappointed. She knew she contributed to every lesson just as this one, so she did not know why he did not put her name up just as the others.

When the bell rang, she waited until everyone left the room and approached him while he was packing his things up in a messenger bag.

“Why am I not a hard worker,” she blurts out indignantly.

Mr Snow rolls his eyes, pointing out, “Because you were too busy chatting to Jeyne, Sansa.”

Huffing she accepts his answer and walks out of the room. She was going to get her name up on that board if it was the last thing she did. With her resolve strengthening, she spotted Margaery leaning against the wall, waiting for her outside.

She did not like the smirk written across her face, as if she knew where a dead body was hidden and nobody else did.

Sighing, Sansa dryly states, “Stop smirking, Margaery. What is it?”

“He was so looking at you when you came out.”

Glaring she claims, “I could not care less.”

Secretly, Margaery’s declaration made her feel delighted for some reason. Mentally shrugging, she just put it down to the new shirt he was probably wearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sansa must be feeling so confused on what she is feeling. Who knows what Jon must be feeling at this point?


	3. Problems Are Only Opportunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much from your feedback from the last two chapter. It makes me pleased to know that people are ACTUALLY enjoying this story. I certainly did not expect it to get so much response. It made me feel overwhelmed and happy.  
> Here's the new chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Sara

Sansa Stark was a woman on a mission.

She was going to be a ‘hard worker’ this week, whether Mr Snow liked it or not. She had deliberately prepared herself to be extra good for English- brushing up on the extra reading, doing her homework days early, and even beginning her extra project which was not due for months in return. All this was completed over the weekend, instead of going out with her friends like she normally would.

Arya thought she had finally descended into madness after discovering her plans. She had arrived home on that Friday afternoon after school (an hour after Sansa) to make herself a sandwich full of weird combinations which would make Sansa- and every other sane person- grimace.

Storming into the kitchen, she stopped on her heels as she spotted Sansa, sitting on one of the stools with pieces of paper spread all across the kitchen counter. Feeling confused she narrowed her eyes on the determined expression spread all over Sansa’s face, pondering on what she must be doing on a Friday afternoon after school.

“What are you doing?” she demands, creasing her eyebrows.

Not expecting a loud demand so suddenly, Sansa raises a hand to cover her beating heart, her head snaps up to see Arya, observing her with curiosity. Her startled appearance quickly turns into a scowl, giving her sister a dirty look for scaring her so unexpectedly. 

“Arya! Don’t sneak up on people like that. You could give them a heart attack.”

Arya blatantly ignores her warning. “I said what are you doing? Why are there pieces of paper all over the counter when I want to make a sandwich?”

Waving her hands in Arya direction, Sansa quickly dismisses her. “Well you have to go make it somewhere else. I need the kitchen counter to complete this project for school.”

Arya’s confusion grew ever more. “What project? Is this the project that Hot Pie was complaining about to Gendry? Isn’t it due like a few months from now?”

Sansa gives a short nod without looking up from what she is writing on the piece of paper, “Yes well, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with getting a head start on the project. It means I don’t have to stress out on it later.”

“Sansa, it’s October. Even Sam has not even started on the project,” Arya claims incredulously. “Despite that, it is a Friday afternoon. Don’t you want to go out in your new pretty dress you kept going on about, with Margaery?

“Yes, Arya. I am well aware of which day of the week it is. I just want good grades that’s all. And I already told Margaery I’m busy anyways.”

“You already have an A in all of your subjects. What more could you want?”

Arya knew this little fact in particular, judging by the lengths she would go to, to hide her own school report from her mother. It never worked, especially as Sansa would come home every month with A’s written on every subject, with Catelyn smiling proudly (though this quickly disappeared when she took a glimpse at Arya’s grades on a scrunched up and torn piece of paper).

“You wouldn’t understand. Now go away, you are disturbing my work.”

Arya was convinced that Sansa was crazy. Well, crazier than usual, that was for certain. No one would willingly want to do even more work after they had just finished school for the week.

She had tried to convince her mother of this fact but she had just smiled and declared that it was nice to see that someone took her education so seriously. After that she had frowned disapprovingly at Arya, stating that she should follow her sister’s role and start taking her education seriously, instead of the kick boxing she was so obsessed with.

Arya swiftly avoided any conversations about Sansa and education with her mother after that.

She tried to broach the subject with her father but he just shrugged, claiming it probably made Sansa feel happy and it’s what her mother would have wanted. She did not even bother with Bran and Rickon seeing as they would never properly understand what the actual problem was. Robb was out of the question as he was living with Talisa in a different city.

Letting out a sigh, she just came to the conclusion that she and Sansa will possibly never understand each other but instead they can learn to accept each other. Therefore, it was perhaps best to just allow Sansa to continue acting weirder than she usually was, and went upstairs to her room to call Gendry.

Now, that was a whole other mess to figure out.

* * *

 

After labouring through the weekend, Sansa finally managed to complete most of her work. She knew she had come extra prepared for today’s lesson, which is why she was firmly convinced that she will have her name up on the board.

This is why she found herself standing outside the classroom door, earlier than any of the other students. After standing there fidgeting with her skirt for a few minutes, waiting for the other students to arrive, Margaery finally turned up- shorter than appropriate skirt, complete with matching heels, and a devilish smirk to match.

“What early bird made you wake up early on a Monday morning and come to school.”

She gives a deliberate pause, pretending to think of an actual answer. A bundle of nervous appeared in Sansa’s stomach, which she ignored, rolling her eyes at Margaery’s deliberate actions. 

“It wouldn’t have something to do with a certain dark-haired teacher, now would it?”

Sansa knew that luck was not something she had acquired at birth, as it was at this point that Jeyne decides to turn up and overhear Margaery’s last statement. Her heart sinks as she made eye contact with Jeyne; the latter giving out a Cheshire cat smirk, her eyes lighting up with excitement much to Sansa’s chagrin.

All in all, Sansa was doomed.

“She’s here early to impress her favourite teacher, that is what’s up. You want to be a teacher’s pet, Sansa?” Jeyne’s cackle resonates in her mind.

She shakes her head. “No, that is not at all what it is,” she protests.

Both of her friends look as if they do not believe her. They have never looked so amused and excited in all their lives.

“What’s the reason then?”

“I just want to be a ‘hard worker’, that’s all,” she defensively answers.

“Well, you’ll definitely ‘work’ hard as a teacher’s pet,” Margaery drawls, innuendo dripping out of her words as Jeyne giggles.

Sansa’s mouth drops open in mortification, a reprimand on the edge of her tongue when a deep voice behind her made her jump out of her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight.

“Who has to work hard, Sansa?” Mr Snow questions, standing behind her with a curious expression on his face.

She hoped the blush on her cheeks were not visible to him.

“Nobody, sir. Margaery was just telling us a joke. It got a bit out of hand.”

“What was the joke then?” he curiously stares back at her, his intense eyes sending a shiver down her spine.

“You would not understand it, sir. Meaning no offence. It’s an inside joke,” she quickly answers, surprised at her ability to lie on the spot so fast.

He gives a suspicious nod, before turning around and slotting the key inside the door. Pushing opening the classroom door, he turns back around and gestures towards Sansa and the door. Feeling a bag of warmth spilling inside her belly, she walks in first, giving him a smile as she walks past.

Her friends saw the entire scene, in which Margaery gives out a raised eyebrow while Jeyne bats her eyes lashes towards Sansa. Scowling at the both of them, she takes her front seat, focusing her attention on being a ‘hard worker.’ She could not afford to mess this up.

Sitting up straight, she tunes out Jeyne’s quiet chattering to a nervous Sam, focusing her attention on the lesson.

Grabbing a board marker, Mr Snow writes something on the board and swiftly turns back around, looking expectantly at the class.

“So, does anyone know anything know anything about what I’ve just written up on the board.”

Taking a glance at the board, Sansa’s hand immediately shot up. Mr Snow made eye contact with her before looking away.

“Let’s see now, Gilly. Would you like to tell us anything you know about the play written on the board?”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Gilly’s face turns red as she notices most of the class’ attention has turned towards her. Sansa could see Sam out of the corner of her eyes, sitting on the edge of his seat with an anxious expression all across face; he looked as if he was going to help her if she struggled.

Sansa softly smiles, butterflies fluttering around in her stomach as she glances between the two of them.

“Umm, its…a play about a great love. Written by William Shakespeare during the Elizabethan Era.”

She looks nervously towards Sam. He smiles softly, looking proud.

“Yes, well done Gilly. It is written by Shakespeare. But here’s a question for the class, is it really love in _Romeo and Juliet_ or just some idealised, petty emotion between two teenagers who just want to rebel against their parents?”

Sansa mouth quickly opens to answer before she can stop herself. “Of course, it’s a great love. They are true soulmates.”

Mr Snow’s attention snaps to Sansa. A smirk grows on his face as he considers her answer.

“Really? What makes you say that then?”

“Because the love, the characters Romeo and Juliet, share is beautiful and passionate,” she snaps, feeling her annoyance growing for as he insulted her favourite play.

“You believe that’s it a real emotion and not just an intense childhood infatuation. Bear in mind, the fact that Juliet is only thirteen years old. Who knows if she really understands the concept of love.”

Her mouth drops open in offence, her eyes lighting up in ire. She was not going to let him destroy her favourite play.

“No! The love they share is also pure, exhilarating, and transformative. It’s true love because they are willing to give everything to it. You would not go to great lengths for someone who just has an infatuation,” she argues fervently, waving her arms around.

Dark eyes were locked on heated blue eyes, both hardly daring to look away. Sansa could feel a wave of heat slide through her body, her breathing getting heavier. She could have sworn that his eyes were lighter before.

The other members of the class were fixated on the argument before the two of them, their heads snapping one towards the other as if they were watching an intense ping pong match. Nothing this exciting had happened in the classroom since a student fainting in their seat last year.

Mr Snow gives a nod, a half smile on the edge of his lips.

“That may be true Sansa, but you have to consider that it is also chaotic and destructive, bringing death to friends, family, and to themselves.”

“That’s the point of it! Shakespeare argues that there are several different types of love, the interchangeable love, the painful love and the love based on appearances, but only true love is worth having!”

Mr Snow lips were parted, and if she listened closely she would have heard his heavy breathing. He jolts out of his intense staring session and gives a brief nod.

“Good argument. I look forward to reading your essay later, Miss Stark.”

Sansa slowly closes her mouth, feeling shocked that he finally agreed with her. A sense of satisfaction filled her body. She leaned back in her chair, a sense of light-headedness filled her head; she jerked on her tie, breathing out deeply.

She did not know why he certain these types of emotions from her or why she felt like she was losing control of her own body all of a sudden. All she knew is that she felt scared of whatever she was feeling, coming to the conclusion that it was dangerous.

 Shaking her confusing thoughts away from her mind, she turned to glimpse at the rest of the class. It was at this exact moment that she made eye contact with Margaery who had the biggest smirk on her face, that Sansa had ever seen. She pretended to fan herself; Sansa narrowed her eyes at her friend as she understood the lip reading from her- Is it getting hot in here? She motions to her and Mr Snow.

Sansa lets out a quiet sigh, giving her friend a pointed look. She turns back around to her table; however, she attracts the focus of her other friend who leans over the table to whisper in Sansa’s ear.

“If you and the teacher carried on any longer with your passionate display, we may be forced to get some fans in here.”

Turning as red as her hair, she exclaims rather loudly, “Jeyne!”

Everyone turns to look at her, given her loud display. Mr Snow was displeased as he presses his lips firmly in disapproval.

“Sansa! That’s the second disruption to this class you have provided. That means you’ll spend your break time with me,” he declares.

Letting out an embarrassed groan, she sunk low into her chair, hearing snickers and giggles in her direction. Margaery gives her a wink from across the room.

So much for being a hard worker.

* * *

 

The lesson lasts for another fifteen minutes, which Sansa was grateful for. Unfortunately, her break time was straight after the lesson, and so she was stuck with Mr Snow. Margaery and Jeyne wave smugly as they exit the classroom, mouthing the words- have fun.

Sansa had never been asked to stay behind after a lesson before. She was always a good girl. She felt even worse when she found out the hard workers were Gilly and Robin. She vowed that it was the last time she arrived early for his lessons ever again.

She took a glance outside of the classroom, spotting Mr Snow giving out stern words with Ros on her story. He had overheard her vulgarity and crudeness during the lesson, causing him to rant about the inappropriateness of her story and how it was not suitable for a classroom environment.

Tuning out his voice, she takes a glance at his desk. It was a fairly neat desk which surprised her. He took the care to organise the papers on his desk but could not change the colour of his shirt. Of course, he would do something like that, Sansa rolls her eyes.

Mr Snow’s desk had the most basic requirements needed for a lesson. There were books stacked neatly on the right corner of the desk, and next to that lay a tissue box which was unopened. He had a grey pot, stood on the left corner of the desk, filled with pens and pencils; next to this was a picture of his dog. Glancing closer, she could see that the dog had a sheet of white fur all over his body while it’s tongue was lolling out of his mouth.

She smiles to herself. It was a cute dog.

The shuffling of feet in the room, causes her to turn her head around, seeing him approach her closer.

“So then, what shall I have you do for disrupting the class?”

Sansa cross her arms, huffing loudly and gives a careless shrug. “Break is only twenty minutes, so I guess not a lot,” she answers back.

Mirth arises on his face. “Careful now, Sansa. You don’t want to miss your lunch to spend time with me as well.”

Letting out a sigh she mumbles, “No, sir. So, what am I to be doing then?”

He hands her a cloth and motions towards the whiteboard. “You’ll be wiping the board clean. Oh, and by the way if you struggle to reach the high areas, use a chair.”

She gives a short nod, grabbing the cloth out of his hand and walking towards the board. She begins scrubbing the bottom half down, seeing as it was easier to wipe the pen marks away. She dreads how hard the writing on top of the board is going to be to get off.

“So, what are your plans after your last year of school finishes? Have you applied for any universities?” he questions while marking work with a red pen.

“I’ve applied to most of the major universities in this country. But most of the ones I’ve applied the most for are abroad,” she answers, surprised that he making an effort to have a pleasant conversation.

“You want to move away from home?” he curiously asks, his eyes boring into her figure.

She affirms her choice. “Yes, I want to explore what the world has to offer and become more independent in the process.”

“What are some of your top places you want to move to?”

“Essos, maybe. Somewhere like Bravos or maybe Volantis. Their Literature course they have down there is very prestige and only the best get in. I’m hoping I go. It’s been a dream of since I was a child.”

She moves backwards to grab a chair to stand on, placing it in front of the board. She steps on it and begins to wipe again, scrubbing harder to get the marks away.

“You could do anything you put your mind to, Sansa. I hope you achieve your dream.”

His voice had gone incredibly soft. Sansa feelings a pang in her heart as she turns her head, making contact with his caring eyes. She feels the same peculiar warmth spreading to her toes.

It was a different feeling she had never experienced before. Not necessarily bad… just different.

He breaks the gaze, clearly his throat loudly and staring back at his work.

An awkward silence settles in the room for a few minutes.

“Here, use this. It’ll make it easier.” He stands up from his chair desk, clutching a cleaning spray in his hand. He walks over and hands her the bottle.

Grabbing it from him, she squirted the liquid on the board and began cleaning. She hated to admit it, but he was right. It _was_ easier with the cleaning spray.

“You still live with your mother?” she breaks the silence.

He looks ups from his work. “Yes, I still do. She’s been there for me for all of my life and I’d hate to leave her alone.”

He smiles softly. “She keeps persuading me to leave her, and to go get a house and family of my own but I can’t. She’s my mother. I’m the only thing she has left in this world. I can’t just abandon her like that,” he fiercely claims.

Sansa laughs happily, touched by the amount of love he emits when talking about his mother. “Don’t worry, sir. I won’t tell anyone you’re a mama’s boy. Your secret’s safe with me.”

He gives her a grin, and they both fall into a comfortable silence.

A line of black marker was extremely hard to wipe, Sansa discovers. Scrubbing fiercely with the cloth, a determined expression comes across her face. A particularly hard scrub causes the chair to wobble precariously, sending a wave of fear through Sansa’s body. She puts her hands up to steady herself, and felt hands reaching up and grabbing her waist, steadying her on her chair.

Looking down, she spots Mr Snow, with both hands wrapped around her waist, looking up at her with concern written all over his face. She had no idea whether her irrational, beating heart sped up because she was about to fall or due to the hands around her waist.

“Thank you,” she tells him slightly breathless.

“Your welcome, Sansa.” He gives a brief nod.

They stood in that position for a few seconds, neither one moving.

Mr Snow lets out a huge cough, letting go of Sansa’s waist in the process. She looks at the board and finds that it is finally clean. She feels proud of the work she achieved.

The ring of the first bell goes off.

“Thank you for your work, Sansa. I trust you won’t disrupt the lesson again.” He gives her a pointed look.

She shakes her head. “Of course not, sir. It won’t happen again.

Mr Snow holds out his head to help her off the chair and before thinking twice, Sansa takes his hand and climbs down from the chair. She feels her palm tingling inside his, causing her to reclaim it quickly, giving out an awkward laugh.

“I’ll see you later then, sir.”

She claims her school bag and walks out of the classroom. She spots her friends waiting for her in the hallway, an expectant expression on both of their faces. Letting out a sigh, she approaches them both.

“So, how was your one- on- one session with Mr Snow?” Jeyne asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

“I just cleaned his whiteboard,” she gives a casual shrug.

Margaery raises an eyebrow.

“NO! Not like that. I meant in the literal term. Get your head out of the gutter, the both of you!” she snaps, her face flushing red.

“Whatever you say, Sansa. Just so you know, I’m naming your kids.”     

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

Through personal experience, Sansa knew that lunchtime was a riot.

Finding a good table in the canteen, was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. If were you not the first people through the large doors, then chances are that it will be quite difficult and exhausting, discovering a good table, that fits all of your friends.

Of course, the older kids had no problem with this, obviously. Most of them would scare the smaller kids away.

Even if accomplishing this, it was the problem of eating decent food. There was the traditional school dinner which always had soggy vegetables with meat. The meat, however was not always cooked.

Sansa avoided this meal like the plague.

Then they would sell a range of sandwiches which were mostly appealing. The problem was, however, that the portion of the sandwiches were so small, it barely counted as a snack meal, never mind lunch. Sansa usually just stuck to the meals her mother would cook at home.

Sansa had volunteered to take her friend’s wrappers and rubbish to the bin, when she saw a certain, brooding teacher standing beside the bins, eating his lunch.

Casually approaching Mr Snow, she decides to take the plunge. “Hello, sir.”

He looks up surprised at the sound of her voice. “Hello Sansa, how’s your lunch going. Didn’t get into any more trouble then.”

“No course not, sir,” she rolls her eyes.

“Good. That reminds me. Can you drop by my classroom after school for about fifteen minutes? I need to talk to you about something.”

She resists the urge to groan out loud. How much time has she spent with him today anyways?

Instead she nods and accepts his requests, no matter how much she dreads it.

“Sure. Am I in trouble for something?” she questions worriedly.

“Well talk about it later, Sansa.”

He walks off, approaching one of the other teachers and having a discussion with them. She watches him walk off for a second before turning and heading back towards her friends.

* * *

 

Taking a deep breath, Sansa raises her hand and knocks on the classroom door. Most of the students have left after the last bell indicating the end of a school day leaving the hallways empty. She hears him telling her to come inside.

She notices him sitting at his desk, shuffling through his papers as if searching for something. His head pops up, hearing her come in through the door.

“Ah, Sansa. Take a seat in front of my desk.”

“What is this about, sir?” she asks, sitting directly in front of him.

“I wanted to talk to you about a new opportunity I heard and I think you could benefit greatly from it. Now, you are the most talented and gifted person in the school even with the most potential.”

Sansa didn’t know what to think.

“The university in Volantis is doing an exam to take on the most talented people in the world. I thought that if I could tutor you for extra lessons, then you have a clear shot in getting in. What do you think?”

Sansa processes this information for a moment, chewing on her lip.

“How long would the extra tutoring session be?”

“Three times a week, for an hour and a half. We could do at my house or your house if you wish?” he encourages.

“Can I have more time to think on it?”

He nods quickly. “Of course, take your time. This is a big decision to make. You could take these papers with you. It provides the student with more information on the outline of what the university is looking for.”

He leans over the table, handing her the sheets of paper. His body leaning closely to her; she could smell his intoxicating aftershave. She freezes, unable to process anything. Her breathing shallows, coming out in tiny inhales and exhales as she could feel his body heat.

He must have noticed his face being so close to hers that he pauses. His warm breath blowing all over her face, turning her cheeks red. Sansa feels her tongue come out to moisten her dry lips, his strong gaze immediately focuses on her pink lips.

He blinks and leans back on his chair, his hands clenching tightly to arms of the chair so firmly that Sansa can see his knuckles whiten.

She could still smell his scent wafting around in her nostrils, making her unable to think properly.

“Was there anything else you needed, sir?” She’s shocked as her voice comes out an octave deeper and sultrier.

But most of all she wishes she could stop her rapidly beating heart.

Avoiding her gaze, he intently stares on one spot in front of him, letting out a strangled “No.”

She wonders if the words he really wanted to say, got stuck in his throat.

Nodding she gently gets up and walks out of the classroom, hardly daring to look behind her. She leans against the wall, outside the classroom. She closes her eyes, telling herself to breath- inhale, exhale- as calmly as she could.

All she could picture in her head is his darkened eyes staring back at her, and her skin tingling with fireworks as she felt his hot breath against her face.

She was at the edge of something. But had no idea what it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is warming up to him, wouldn't you say. Margaery has joined the Jonsa ship as well. 
> 
> Also for those who want a Jon's POV don't worry, it coming up in the next chapter.


	4. Confessions Of A Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys!!!! This story has over a 100 kudos. Thank you all so much for your support and reviews.  
> Happy reading!
> 
> Ps: This one is in Jon's POV just like most of you wanted.

Jon did not think it would get so bad.

All he wanted to do was teach kids and earn money in order to support his mother. That is why he accepted the job in the first place. Don’t get him wrong, he still loved his job- teaching kids about the subject he was most passionate about, but he felt as if some days were unbearable to cope with.

It was all because of _her_.

Sometimes, he wished he could stop all his emotions, just so he would not be experiencing so many things all at once, making his head spin.

If someone asked him what started it all, he would clench his teeth in frustration, glower directly at a spot in front of him and grumble, “those fucking skirts.”

Sansa Stark and her skirts were the bane of his existence. He did not know what would be worse: watching her prance around in her skirt all day, or not be able to see it.

It was like both heaven and hell on earth. He felt as if he was slowly going insane.

The reason why he both loved and hated those skirts at the same time was because of her long legs. It had been an obsession of his ever since he had first glimpsed at them. His mind had short- circuited the moment she stood frozen on the spot on the first day.

He would try so hard to erase it from his memory, but it was all in vain. They seemed to go on forever, making him whimper softly to himself in lessons like a scared little boy.

On his fourth day at school, he had almost gone to the school board to get the leaders to ban those skirts. But he knew that seeing her in trousers would be even worse. So, he left it at that.

He’d often lie awake at night, shuffling around in his bed wondering how it must feel to have those legs wrapped around his waist while his hands gripped her own tiny waist. He’d wake up every day before school, wetness all around his upper thighs, sporting morning wood.

Then the guilt would rise even faster, slamming into him like a weight train at full speed. He felt disgusted with himself. He was a twenty-two-year-old man fantasizing about an eighteen year old girl. Better yet, he chuckled darkly without any mirth- he was a teacher having dreams about his student.

It was wrong on so many levels. Her parents lived opposite his house and they had no idea what he thought about their daughter. The school had trusted him as a member of authority to care for her, as his student, but instead he had mentally violated her in the worst way.

Sansa, herself would think him depraved and revolting. He would not blame her if she decided to report him to the authorities. Hell, _he_ was sickened with himself as well.

He couldn’t look her in the eyes at school. He had a fear that she would know at soon as she looked him in the eyes; she would see the lust and desire swirling around each time he looked at her. But then he would also feel at fault, noticing her disheartened expression on not being picked to answer a question.

He hated himself for that.

But the worst thing about all of this was that his attraction was not only psychical.

He knew he had feelings for her, or starting to show the beginning signs of a schoolboy crush on a girl. He knew it was not only psychical because of the admiration and warmth he would feel at her intelligence. The passion she felt for her subject, and the way her eyes would sparkle with a hint of redness on her cheeks when seeing her discuss something she loved, made him feel something flapping in his stomach.

His stomach would grip tightly when she saw this, making him lean forward in his chair hoping not to miss anything. It was due to her intelligence, romantic nature and kindness that made him fall for her even more.

It made him feel sick but happy at the same time.

He had specially moved her to the front table, near his desk for a reason. It was to see her with a closer view, and keeping her proximity closer to his; something that delighted him very much, no matter how much he wishes it did not.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, he knew it was out of his control. The only thing he can do is allow the current to take him under.

* * *

 

 The wind whistled in his ear and blew across his flushed cheeks, the bitter taste of the cold November air lingered in his mouth. He trudged through the school parking lot, approaching his car with his car keys clutched in his right hand.

He could see a bunch of school boys, still in their uniforms loitering a few spaces away from Jon’s car. Excitement was written all over their faces as one of the boys had an arrogant smirk on his face. He had bleached blonde hair, that was spiked upwards, his eyes filled with mischief.

Jon already did not like this kid.

He gave off an ‘I’m better than you’ vibe, his pointy eyes taking in everything around him.

Jon did not think anything of it at first. He just assumed that they were waiting for somebody so he just ignored them and kept walking. Besides he wanted to get home quickly due to the grumble his stomach gave while thinking about the food his mother had cooked at home.

However, his ears decided to overhear the subject they were conversing about, making him stop abruptly in his heels, his head snapping towards their direction and his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Has she finally decided to go out with you?” asked one of the darker haired boys with an eager face.

The blonde’s smug face falters, “She hasn’t yet but I guarantee you that she’ll be begging me to go out with her by the end of the week. She just hasn’t experienced all this yet.” He motions to his body, top to bottom.

The gaggle of the boys let out loud laughs, the sound echoing in Jon’s ear. He hoped they were not talking about who he thought they were talking about.

“Believe me guys, Sansa Stark just has not experienced the right man yet. Baratheon probably wasn’t man enough anyways. No wonder she dumped his ass.”

He could hear a wave rushing through his ears. His fists clenched tightly into his palms. He bit his tongue hard to stop himself from rushing over there and punch the smug blonde in the face until his nose was bloodied (though nothing would give him so much delight).

“Don’t worry guys. I’ll swipe the Ice Queen’s v- card soon. Everyone will hale me as a hero in these very hallways. You should start making a banner,” the blonde brags arrogantly.

Jon snaps, he had finally heard enough. His nostrils flaring angrily, he stormed over to the huddle.

“What is the meaning off this,” he snaps sharply, focusing directly on the smug faced prick who looked surprised.

“What do you mean, sir,” questioned one of the smaller boys who was shuffling on his feet nervously.

Jon did not break eye contact with the blonde.

“Why have you not gone home yet? School hours are finished and you should have been off the premises a long time ago.”

“It’s not a crime to be hanging out here,” claims the blonde indignantly.

The arrogance on his face had appeared, making Jon’s rage climb to new heights.

“What’s your name, _boy_?” he spits out at him, the word ‘boy’ thrown like an insult to his face.

“Harry Hardyng,” he says puffing his chest out with haughtiness.

Jon’s anger kept increasing.

“Right Hardyng. Detention! For two weeks. You’ll lose your break time for back chatting a teacher and refusing to obey orders,” he raises his voice wi th darkened eyes.

“WHAT? NO!” Harry shouts angrily.

Jon steps closer, his face nose- to- nose with the blonde who now looked confused and fearful, looking up at dark eyes filled with rage.

“Did I stutter, boy? Make that a month’s detention while you’re at it, for raising your voice. You’ll be cleaning the boy’s bathrooms for two hours every day with the caretaker. Do I make myself clear?”    

The parking lot had gone completely silent. Jon could hear his own heavy breathing and the wind whistling in his ear.

His body was filled with a fury he had never experienced before, not even with his father. All he could picture in his mind is the hands of this _fucker_ in front him touching her all over. It made him want to slam his fist into a nearby wall.

“Jon? Is everything okay here?” said a heavily accented voice.

Jon mentally groaned. This day could not get any better.

Taking a step back from the student, he turned back around to see another teacher standing a few steps away from him.

“Everything is fine Melisandre,” he rolls his eyes. “I was just giving out detention to this boy for raising his voice.”

Melisandre was the philosophy teacher in the school. She refuses to let her students call her by her last name, claiming it made her feel old for some reason.

Jon did not like her. She would always make up some excuse of coming into his classroom after school. She would always touch him on the shoulder or forearm while staring intensely at his face, making him feel uncomfortable. She reminded him of a temptress, born into his life to make it a misery. He felt like her touching him was the equivalent of a cold shower. So, he avoided her in staff room, choosing to hide in corners until she gave up her obvious advances.

Melisandre turned back and glanced at the boys in front of her, all wearing a shocked expression on their faces. She glances towards the blonde boy, accepting Jon’s answer.

“Do as Mr Snow say,” she says towards the conceited boy.

Harry flushes red in anger and embarrassment before nodding stiffly to Jon. A bolt of satisfaction runs through him though it does not decrease his anger.

Glancing towards his friends he spits out, “Get your friend out of my site and make sure he controls the filth coming out of his mouth the next time I see him.”

They all nod and drag the blonde away out of distance. 

“Thank you, Melisandre but I could have handled that on my own. Now if you excuse me, my mother is probably wondering where I have disappeared off to.”

He buttons his blazer shut and strolls towards his car slamming it shut without giving the other teacher another glance.

* * *

 

After the drive home, Jon was finally calm enough to greet his mother. He had counted to ten repeatedly in his mind until he felt tranquil enough to get out of the car.

Unclenching his hands from the wheel of the car, he stepped out but not before glancing across the road to a certain student’s house. At that moment, he had a crazy notion to storm into her house and demand her to tell him everything about the blonde prick who he had just met.

He was losing control, and he was losing it fast.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he took a deep breath and walked into his house, the desire to hug his mother overcoming him. Jon knew that no matter how angry or sad he felt, the presence of his mother made everything feel better.

Despite being very protective of his mother and claiming that she needed him, there were some days in which he needed her. He wanted to crawl into his mother’s lap and fall asleep just like he used to when he was a little boy.

Before he knew the truth about his selfish father, who had left his original wife to carry out an affair with his mother, before leaving her too.

Jon did not allow these thoughts to overwhelm him too much, otherwise he knew his previous anger would return, this time directed towards his father.

Removing his blazer and shoes and leaving it on the rack next to the door, he walked into the kitchen hoping to find his mother cooking. He could already scent the aroma of spices, making a soft smile appear on his face by recognising the familiar smell of his mother’s cooking.

He could feel himself slowly becoming at ease in her presence. She noticed him walking in as she stirred the pot with a wooden spoon. She gives him a soft smile, gesturing him to approach her. He gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello love. How was work?” she questions.

He gives a casual nod, while walking over to the fridge. “It was fine. I got most of my work completed and they said they might give me a pay rise if I keep up the work I am doing so far.”

Lyanna beams at him. “That’s great honey. It what you always wanted.”

Opening the fridge door, he takes out the orange squash and a glass from the cupboard. Pouring it into the glass, he takes a sip, the sweetness of the drink filling his body.

“So, what did you do today?”

“Oh, I had a nice chat with Mrs Stark from across the road. That’s reminds me, we both made plans together. We’ve decided to meet each other’s family meaning we’ve got a family dinner with the Starks.”

Jon’s head snaps up. Excitement runs through him, feeling himself eager to meet her again despite the lack of control he had over his body when it came to her. His mother carries on talking, not being aware of what Jon was feeling at this very moment.

“They’ve invited both of us to meet the family so I expect you to be there tomorrow at dinner in your best suit. Mrs Stark assures me that her eldest son and his girlfriend are coming as well. He’s about your age, a few months older so I’m sure you’ll along.”

Jon gives a nod. “Sure. I’ll be there. I’m going to take Ghost for a walk in the park. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Lyanna waves her hand, allowing him to go. Grabbing his dog’s leash, he whistles.

“Here, Ghost. It’s time for walkies.”

 

* * *

 

The old trees boarding the fields acted like guards, muffling the sounds of the busy city and creating a peaceful haven for the small creatures that lived inside. The only entrance was a narrow path that gradually widened as it ran through the field and up the hill. A cold breeze would occasionally blow, making him thankful for the coat he had on.

Jon adored the peacefulness and quiet atmosphere of the park. Most people would think him crazy for visiting a park in the evening in November but this was the time that Jon liked. It allowed him to wonder through his innermost thoughts to himself and allowed Ghost to receive fun and exercise.

The tug of the leash made him break out of his thoughts, realising he was no longer holding onto Ghost. He gave a bark and raced ahead, not waiting for Jon.

“Ghost, wait!” he shouted running over his dog.

Ghost had disappeared into a corner, out of his sight. Gritting his teeth in determination he made his legs run faster until he turned the corner and found his dog lying down on his legs in the distance.

Narrowing his eyes, Jon walked closer to his dog trying to figure out what it was doing.

“There you are, Ghost. What are-"

The ending of his words was cut off until he realised who his dog had come to a stop in front of.

Sansa was sitting on a park bench with a book clutched in her hands, a bewildered expression on her face as she glanced up at Jon with her wide blue eyes. She was wearing jeans and a warm sweater combined with a long green coat. On her head was a light pink woolly hat that looked as if it had been hand stitched by someone.

“Mr Snow! Is he your dog?” she questions curiously.

Jon did not trust himself to say anything so he just gave a nod. Sansa’s mouth brightens into a wide smile looking down at Ghost who was looking adoringly up at her. Jon stared in disbelief as the dog who hated most of his friends and only tolerated his mother was acting smitten with Sansa.

“He’s so cute. Aren’t you boy. You’re not scary at all with your red eyes,” she whines in a high-pitched voice.

Ghost’s tail wags happily.

“Whose Harry Hardyng?” he blurts out loudly.

Jon wishes he could take his words back as Sansa’s head snaps up swiftly an expression of shock on her face which quickly turns into annoyance and disgust.

“How do you know him?” she exclaims narrowing her eyes up at him.

“Answer the question, Sansa. Who is he? Has he been bothering you?” Jon ardently questions.

Sansa’s face hardens. “He’s just a boy who won’t take no for an answer.”

This does not make Jon feel any better, if anything it makes him feel even angrier and more out of control.

“You don’t need to be near him if he’s bothering you, Sansa. If he is then you need to stay away from him, he could be dangerous,” he fiercely argues.

A silence hangs over them, making Jon feel as if he has overstepped his boundaries. Letting out a sigh, he runs his right hand through his hair and opens his mouth to explain his words.

“I just meant that if he is bothering you, then you can talk to me and we’ll do something about this. Okay?” he reassures.

She gives a nod. “I’ll come to you if there is any trouble but I’m purely capable of taking care of myself thank you.”

Jon finally feels calmer.

“So, what book are you reading then?” he changes the subject.

Her expression immediately brightens up in joy.

“It’s an old classic. Pride and Prejudice. Have you read it, sir?”

Jon lets out a soft smile.

“Yes, I have read it. I rather enjoyed it even though most people claim it is a woman’s novel. That reminds me. Have you thought about the extra tutoring session yet?” he sobers looking expectantly at her.

Sansa furrows her eyebrows looking thoughtful for a few seconds before nodding towards him. “Yes. I’d like to take on the extra session with you, Mr Snow.”

“Sansa, we’re not in school anymore more. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other anyways seeing as if our mothers are friends. Call me Jon.”

She lets out a hesitant smile.

“Okay…Jon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it looks like Jon has even less control than Sansa does when it comes to his emotions.


	5. A Conversational Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope I did this chapter justice. Again thank you for your comments and reviews.  
> Enjoy reading!
> 
> Sara.

The sun peeked behind the curtain in Sansa’s bedroom, lighting her hair like a fiery halo. She lifted her head from the pillow, red hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. The sun’s soft rays sent a glossy, gold sheen all around the room, blending with the falling leaves outside. Stretching out her limbs, she could feel the rays of the sun warming her body. 

Her ears began to pick up the voices coming from downstairs, the smell of bacon being fried wafted into her nostrils causing her stomach to rumble. Lifting herself from the soft mattress, she grabbed her dressing gown which was hung up on her door and padded into the hallway.

A familiar deep, northern accent (just like her father’s) resonated into her ears. Realising who it was, a joyful grin stretched her mouth as she bounded downstairs, stopping in her tracks as she noticing him in the living room.

“Robb! You’re back,” she happily exclaims.

A grin widens on her eldest brother’s face. He immediately stood up from the couch, his arms wide open, waiting for her to jump into his arms.

“Hey, little sister. Miss me?”

Without hesitation, Sansa runs in her brother’s arms, hugging him tightly, afraid he was going to disappear again.

“So, you did miss me then,” he teases her with a smile.

She gives out a scoff. “Of course, I did. You’ve been gone for months and I haven’t seen you since the summer holidays. Why did not you not come sooner?” she demands pouting and crossing her arms.

Robb gives out a chuckle, an adoring look in his eyes as he glances at his sister. “I was busy, Sansa. I was working at the shop which meant I didn’t have time to visit sooner than I wanted to. But I’m here now.”

Sansa nods happily, clutching onto his forearm. “When did you get in? And where’s Talisa?”

“We got in late last night seeing as we took the last train getting here. It was so stressful having to lug all our suitcases around. Oh, I think Talisa is in the kitchen helping mum with the breakfast.”

“Have you met the others yet?”

“No actually. Where’s Bran and Arya? I’ve seen Rickon early this morning.”

Sansa furrows her eyebrows, “Um, I think Arya’s still sleeping at this time. And Bran is having a sleepover round Jojen’s house.”

Robb raises an eyebrow. “You mean he’s gone to see Meera more like.”

“Probably. I mean there’s only so much time you can spend round your best friend’s house,” she smirks up at him.

“Little brother is not subtle is he,” Robb chuckles. “Anyways, how are you? How’s school treating you?” he asked curiously.

“School’s doing fine. I’m getting good grades if that’s what you mean,” she shrugs.

“That’s good. I always knew you weren’t just a pretty face; you had brains as well,” he teases with a smirk. “Speaking of school, is there any boy you have a crush on?” he asks with a sudden serious countenance.

“Of course not, I’m too busy for that anyways,” she rolls her eyes.

Her mind decides to traitorously remind her of Mr Snow. A part of her mind whispered that his name would be now Jon seeing as he gave her permission to call him that. She mentally frowns wondering why his name popped into her mind at this moment.

She wondered why she was blushing as she could feel the heat off of her cheeks.

Robb’s blue eyes narrow at her face making her feel nervous for some reason unknown to her.

“Really? So then why are your cheeks all flushed like that?” he questioned.

Sansa groans mentally. Of all the times, she had wanted him to pay closer attention to her, he had finally decided that it was going to be right now.

She gives out an awkward laugh, hoping she came across as ordinary. “It’s just hot in here. Now come on, I want to go see Talisa,” she swiftly changes the subject and grabs his arm, dragging him into the kitchen.

As she reached the kitchen she let go of his arm, spotting Talisa setting the table while her mother was cooking breakfast. A smile grows on her face, happiness gripping her body.

“Hello, Talisa. It’s nice to see you.”

Her voices made Robb’s girlfriend snap her head towards Sansa’s direction. Her face turning from shock into a happy grin.

“Sansa! You’re awake. Come here and give me a hug. It’s so nice to see you again after so many months.”

“It has been too long. Especially as you’ve got my brother to deal with for the rest of your life. How unfortunate,” Sansa smirks at her.

“HEY!” Robb exclaims with a pout.

“Well, I probably will have to. That’s only when he gets up to buy a ring,” Talisa teases back with a pointed look at Robb.

Sansa was aware of her brother being the most oblivious person she had ever met (second only to her father), so she knew that he would not be able to pick up on the hint Talisa had keenly pointed out to him.

Sansa herself wondered on when Robb was going to propose to his girlfriend. They had been living together for a year, as Robb moved out when he was twenty- one years. They had both met during the last year of college and had been going strong for three years.

Poor Talisa would be waiting for at least another year, Sansa thinks with a mental sigh.

Sansa breaks out of her thoughts as she spots her father walking in, greeting her mother with a kiss.

“I would to take this opportunity to remind you all that we’ve got a sit-down dinner party tonight with Lyanna and her son. So no after school clubs or surprise trips with Margaery, Sansa. And I want you to also remind Arya that she’ll be here for it as well. So, no Gendry,” Catelyn explains.

“Can’t we just have a barbecue instead?” complains her father with furrowed eyebrows.

Catelyn stares firmly at her husband, with a glower. “It is going to be a sit- down dinner, Ned. No complaints, I want you in a clean suit after you get back from work. No excuses,” she says with a no argument tone.

Ned gives out a groan, running his hand over his face and mumbles his acceptance.

“Don’t you have school in an hour, Sansa?” Robb questions, changing the subject.

“Yes, I do which means I have to go get ready. So, if you’ll excuse.”

* * *

 

Somehow, through a strange serious of events, Ros had become her partner for English today.

Jeyne had texted Sansa this morning claiming she was ill so she was unable to come into school. Though personally, Sansa believed that she was faking an illness in order to get out of a particularly nasty test they had in science that day. Margaery had a doctor’s appointment with her grandmother in the morning which meant she wasn’t there as well.

This meant that Sansa was standing in the corridor outside Mr Snow’s classroom alone, waiting for him to arrive so they can go in. It felt strange standing there without her friends, it was a change in her routine and Sansa did not like it. 

After a few minutes she saw Sam approaching, and with a wave she beckoned him towards her.

“Hey, Sam. How are you?”

“Great! Gilly’s decided to finally go out with me,” he grins with a shy smile.

Not expecting this news, her eyes widened in disbelief, letting out a loud sequel of excitement. Sam turns red but still manages to maintain the proud look on his face.

“Oh my god, Sam!” she exclaims. “How did this happen?”

“Well… I sort of blurted it out at her. She was just standing there so I approached her. I’ve never felt so sick in my entire life. I thought she was going to yell at me.”

“But she didn’t, did she?” Sansa says excitedly, her eyes wide with happiness for her friend.

“No... she didn’t. She smiled at me and said yes,” he smiles with a dazed grin.

A worried expression overcomes him. “Sansa is this another one of my dreams? Is this real life?”

A joyful laugh bursts out of her. “Yes Sam. This is real. You’ve got a date with Gilly,” she grins widely at him.

Sam was silent for a few seconds before turning to look at her. “I’m scared, Sansa. What if I mess this up and she never wants to speak to me again?”

“Don’t worry Sam. Just be yourself. That’s why she said yes to you instead of someone else. Because she likes _you_ ,” she reassures him comfortingly.

He gives a thank nod in her direction, smiling softly.

Glancing over her shoulder he says, “Excuse me, Sansa. I’ve got to go and tell Pyp and Grenn. They’ll never believe me.”

She beams encouragingly. “Sure. I’ll be rooting for the two of you Sam.”

With a nod, he walks off.

Her happiness does not last long however, as a voice behind her makes her stiffen on the spot, her fists clench in the palm of her hands. Her expression changes into disgust and anger while she grits her teeth together.

“So, Miss Piggy finally has a date then? How surprising that a fat tub of lard like him is able to even find a girl,” drawls an arrogant voice behind her.

Turning around she groans quietly, quickly rearranging her expression into a coldness that would warn off even the boldest of boys, as she comes to look the smug face of Harry Hardyng.

She _loathed_ this boy who was stood in front of her with a passion. After the disaster that was her relationship with Joffrey Baratheon during her first year, all the boys were warned by her brother that she was not going to date for the rest of her school life. Most boys took his warning seriously while others, especially the blonde, ignored the warning when her brother left for a different city, and persisted in harassing her to go out with him.

But it was his character that made her hate the blonde even more than she did before. His arrogance and overconfidence annoyed her. But it was his tyrannical and bullying nature that angered her the most out of all his traits. Especially as he picked on Sam the most.

“I’d appreciate it if you did not call my friend that, thank you very much,” she retorts coolly.

“Oh, come on, Sansa. Even you have to be surprised that the fat boy is finally acknowledged by a girl. But only the school outcast is good enough for him,” he cackles loudly.

Sansa had to stop herself from punching him in the face. He carries on not noticing her hostile posture towards him.

“So anyways. I’ve had an idea. How about you and me go out for dinner tonight. I think we’ll be good for each other. What do you say?”

“I have family plans tonight,” she states emotionlessly.

“So? Change them for another day. You don’t want to miss out on date with me,” he brags.

A voice, sharp as a knife breaks through the conversation before Sansa can answer back, causing Harry to flinch on the spot.

“What are you doing here, Hardyng? This isn’t your lesson,” Mr Snow grits out with a hardened expression.

Sansa has never been so happy to see him in all of her life.

“I was just having a chat with Sansa,” Harry says slowly.

“Well, I’m sure Sansa is not ‘chatting’ with you seeing as you are disrupting her education. Now run along to your lesson like a good little boy. Unless you want to be cleaning out every single bathroom for the rest of the school year. I’m sure the caretaker would gladly accept some extra help,” he taunts with a hint of malice in his voice.

Sansa could not help but feel pleased. But she had no idea whether it was due to Harry’s pinched expression or due to _Mr Snow_ telling him off. Probably the former, she concludes firmly.

Harry flushes red in anger but did not argue. He walked off with a glare directed at Mr Snow.

“Are you okay? Was he bothering you?” he questions in a soft tone.

She did not trust herself to say anything in that moment, so she nodded towards him. His eyes softened when he took at glance at her.

She could feel her cheeks heating up in a blush when his dark stare pierced her figure. She could feel a burning in her stomach as something inside her it flapped around furiously. She swallows nervously, realising what it was.

He turns and unlocks the classroom door and says in a tense voice, “Come on guys, in you go.”  

As she walks in, she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head as she makes her way to her table. She shifts nervously in her chair as he moved past her, hearing his breath hitch.

The main task of the lesson required a sheet of paper which Mr Snow asked Sansa to hand out to the rest of the class. Picking up the pile of papers she does as instructed but by the time she reached her own table there was not enough sheets left.

Seeing as there was only four of them on the table, Mr Snow decided to partner them together. Instead of being partnered with those sitting closest together, he decided to be traditional.

“The two boys can work together as well as the two girls. And I don’t want to hear no complaints from any of you,” he claims loudly, without discussion.

This meant that Sansa was paired with Ros while Sam was with Robin. Sansa gives him a scowl, feeling her old annoyance building up again.

She reluctantly moves to sit next to Ros on the other side of the table, the smell of smoke immediately hitting her nostrils. Picking up her pen she scribbles down a few notes on the sheet of paper.

Sansa feels something tapping her on the arm and looking up from her work she notices Ros looking at her with an annoyed expression. She looks down at Ros’ own paper, finding out she has not written anything down. Confused Sansa looks at her and she points at her empty hand.

“I haven’t got a pen. Have you got a spare one?” she asks.

Sansa shakes her head, “No I haven’t, sorry.”

She truthfully did not have a spare pen because her own one had run out during the test in science and so she had to resort to using her own spare pen.

 Ros reaches down into her bag, rummaging for something and when she found the object, she thrusts it into Sansa’s hand.

“Look, I’ll lend you that if you give me a pen.”

Sansa’s eyes widen in mortification as she finds a condom placed in her palm. Even though it was still in the wrapper, she turned scarlet at the sight of it.

“I was going to use it this weekend, but Theon decided to bail out on me to go visit his father,” she rolls her eyes.

Sansa feared that Ros was a sex addict.

“Sansa, what’s that in your hand?” Mr Snow questions curiously, approaching the table.

Sansa froze in her seat. This is not happening, she thinks disbelievingly.

Mr Snow reached the table and was currently staring at the condom that Sansa was still clutching in her right hand. He had an unreadable expression on his face. Feeling the rest of the class turn silent, Sansa could hear the sound of rushing blood pounding in her ears.

Ros decides to speak up.

“It was mine sir. I gave it to her in exchange for a pen. I thought maybe she could use it later,” she explains casually.

The whole class break into peals of laughter as they realise what was in Sansa’s hand. She turns even redder, if that was even possible.

Mr Snow picks up the condom and stares at it for a few minutes. Then his face turns a shade of red in anger.

“I’m confiscating this, Ros. This is inappropriate for a school environment. Now get out of my room, right this instance!”

Mr Snow looked absolutely furious. She had never seen him look like this. Sure, it was inappropriate but his eyes had darkened in so much anger that nobody was brave enough to say anything. Ros leaves his room without a word, and Mr Snow returns to his desk.

He places the condom in his desk drawer, locking it with a key from his blazer pocket. He turns his attention towards Sansa.

“Sansa, I want you to stay behind for a word after the lesson.”

She nods without argument. The same familiar burning in her abdomen had returned, only this time she could also feel a throbbing between her legs. Her chest had also tightened considerably.

During the rest of the lesson, the classroom was eerily quiet. No one said a word unless it was about the work itself. At the end, Sansa stayed behind to hear what he was going to say.

“So…” she begins feeling rather awkward.

She sees that he still looks rather angry, so she swallows nervously before continuing.

“What did you want to talk about?”

He breaths out a tired sigh, running his hands over his face. “It doesn’t matter now anyways, Sansa.”

Confused, she looks at him, tilting her head slightly. “Are you sure, sir?” 

He gives a half smile; the anger and fury having being replaced by sadness.

“Aye. You better go to get ready for this dinner thing our families have planned for tonight. My mother will have my head if I’m late for it,” he rolls his eyes.

“Well we can’t have that, now can we, sir?” she teases back with a laugh.

* * *

 

 The tie Jon was wearing, irritated him.

After several minutes (thirty to be exact) on deciding what to wear for the dinner party, his stomach was a had knotted into bundle of nerves. He knew he wanted to look good for tonight, but every shirt or suit he had worn, looked bad or not good enough.

He wanted to impress the Starks for some reason. But in particular he most definitely wanted to impress Sansa.

He knew this because he had spent the last hour in the shower preparing himself: from washing his hair until it smelt pleasant enough to make an impression, to trimming his beard neatly, something he did not care much for until he met Sansa.

In the end, he decided for a dark black suit with a red tie. He just hoped it was enough.

“Jon, honey. It’s time to go!” his mother called from downstairs.

The butterflies grew stronger, as he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Grabbing his long coat, he wore it open and went downstairs.

His mother wore a red dress, complete with heels and was putting on her earrings in the hallway mirror.

“Whoa, mum. You look nice,” he said admiringly with a smile.

She glanced back at him with a grin.

“Thanks, dear. Now remember to grab the cakes from the counter and when you’re ready, let’s head out.”

“Sure, mum.”

“Jon, you don’t think I’ve overdone my look have you,” she asks worriedly.

“No. It’s fine. I’m sure the Starks are all dressed up anyways.”

Well, he hoped one particular Stark was dressed up for this event.

* * *

 

She was dressed up that was for sure.

As both Jon and Lyanna walked into the doorway, he immediately shifted his head from side to side, trying to spot where Sansa was.

When he caught a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye, the sight that greeted him made all the air in his lungs disappear completely. He felt his mouth part open, as a bolt of desire ran through his body.

He instantly felt guilty, knowing he was staring intently at Sansa while her family was just near her.

She wore a black dress that reached a few inches above her knees while her hair was curled to perfection. It was almost as bad as her school skirt.

A part of Jon selfish whispered that they matched in clothing. He quickly dismissed that thought, and chose to greet the rest of the Starks.

“Hello, Mrs Stark. It’s nice to meet you.”

Waving her hands, the older red-haired women who bore a striking resemblance to Sansa states, “Oh, call me Catelyn, Jon. I’m sure you’re old enough to.”

This statement made him feel even worse as this woman had no idea on the thoughts he had about her daughter. She motioned to the man stood next to her.

“This is my husband, Ned and these are my children.”

The grey eyed man looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else but the moment he was in, but he gave Jon a half smile to which he nodded back in acknowledgment. Turning towards the kids, he greeted each of them individually.

Robb gave him a firm shake of the hand, and nodded in approval to him while introducing his girlfriend. He also met the smaller children: a smaller girl called Arya, who looked more like Ned than the rest of them did, gave him an intense stare at first before greeting him (He would hate to be on the bad side of her, he thought with a shudder).

Bran and Rickon both gave him a shy wave and in return he gave them a smile. Turning to Sansa he paused briefly for a moment before lifting his head up to meet her eyes. As soon as the blue eyes met his, a shiver ran down his spine, every nerve in his body tingling.

He approached her cautiously, hardly daring to breath and reached out to grab her hand. The tingling sensation become even worse as they made contact, and he could have sworn she’d felt it too as her mouth parted and her eyes widened.

They quickly reclaimed their hands back. Jon could still feel the burning after effects of touching her hand with his.

“The dining room is just through here, guys,” Catelyn informs them, ushering them all in that direction.

Jon knew they should have had a barbecue instead, the moment he sat down and looked up to see Sansa sitting opposite him on the table. Mentally groaning he knew it was going to be the longest dinner of his entire life. He just prayed that he got through this without anything happening.

As everyone began to fill their plates, the discussion started. Mrs Stark broke the silence between them.

“So, Lyanna. How are you and Jon?”

His mother smiles. “We’re great. And we’d like to thank your family for inviting us round. Jon and I are both honoured to be with all of you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope we can do this again and become great friends.”

“I’d like that too." "So, how’s the new neighbourhood treating you both then?”

“Great! We’ve both settled in really well,” his mother beams widely.

“I’m glad to hear it. And if you don’t mind me saying, you’ve done a great job raising a young man all by yourself,” Catelyn says while Ned nods in the background.

Arya decides to perk up at that moment. “Wait! You’ve got no dad?” she exclaims loudly towards Jon.

Catelyn looked horrified just as Sansa did. Jon could see Robb trying to hide his laughter behind his wine glass.

“ARYA! Don’t be rude!” Sansa shouts at her sister, who sits next to her.

She gives Jon an apologetic expression which he waves away with a soft smile. He thought he saw her blush for a moment.

“It’s okay. But to answer the question, yes. My mother has raised me all on her own seeing as my father left when I was young. But I’m grateful for the life I have and I couldn’t ask for a better mother,” he states with a soft expression towards his mother, who gives him a smile.

“So, Jon. What do you work as?” Ned questioned.

Before thinking he blurts out “I’m a teacher. I teach English.”

Most of the heads on the table turn to look at him. He closes his mouth shut, instantly regretting his words, knowing he’ll get a few questions asked.

“You’re a teacher? Does that mean you work at the local high school?” Catelyn asked curiously.

Jon’s eyes locked on Sansa’s in front of him, and they were just as cautious and panicked as his were. He broke the gaze and turned towards the rest of the occupants with an awkward smile.

“Yes, I do. In fact, Sansa here, is one of my best students.”

Arya laughed at her sister’s expense. “He’s your English teacher. How embarrassing. You probably have to call him sir all the time.”

Sansa’s face turns red, just as he could feel his own heating up.

“That’s enough, Arya. Leave them alone,” Ned firmly says.

The subject then moves along to Robb and Talisa.

As the conversation continued, Jon crossed his legs from under the table. By accident his foot touches Sansa’s. He expected her to move it away but she didn’t, allowing him to adjust his foot so it was more comfortable for him. However, this ended up making his foot touch her foot even more.

She still does not move it, so he just leaves his foot there and tries to ignore it.

The time passes along and he could feel his foot stat to become numb from having it crossed for so long. Uncertainly, he uncrosses it but unfortunately, this causes his knee to bump into the table which makes an obvious thud.

Everyone turns to look at him and he smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck while apologising. Glancing at Sansa from the corner of his eyes, he could see a smirk threatening to break at the edge of her mouth.

Huffing he turns back to his food.

With a glance up, he locks eyes with Bran, who was staring intensely between him and Sansa with a peculiar expression written across his face. This causes Jon to feel nervous, so he avoids Bran’s gaze for the rest of the dinner. 

Catelyn breaks him out of his thoughts by addressing Sansa.

“Sansa, dear. We’ve run out of wine. Would you run down into the basement and grab the special red wine from the crate,” she asks.

With a turn of his head, he narrows his eyes on Sansa’s face, noticing the fear in her eyes. He knew from a look at her face that she was afraid of going down there.

She gulps nervously but gives a short nod, refusing to disobey her mother’s request.

Jon made his decision at that moment.

“Hang on a minute, Sansa. Let me come with you,” he says firmly in his teacher’s voice, not expecting any resistance from her.

She looks inquisitively at him, and then gives a nod. He could see a glimpse of relief all over her face for a just a second. And then it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For someone who wants to avoid his feelings, Jon sure does pay a lot of attention towards Sansa. And we've got the basement scene between them coming up. Who know what can happen?


	6. Whatever Happens in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews and kudos. They literally make my day.   
> So here's chapter 6. 
> 
> Sara.

The basement was once a wine cellar. The most exclusive vintages of Dornish wine were shelved in wooden racks and placed in crates, trusted to the natural refrigeration of the soil behind the dense stone walls. There were ancient brackets for candles every few feet, but it has been so long since they were used that there is not even any wax residue on them.

Sansa can smell the musty air in the dim light provided by the single bare bulb that dangles from the ceiling, she cannot see any water seeping in. It's larger than it seems from the doorway, and there are some alcoves built in.

Sansa hated the dark.

It was one of her biggest fears that had lived on since childhood, ever since she had accidently managed to get herself locked in a dark room. Robb and her father had eventually kicked the door down, and she went crying into her mother’s arms afterwards. She remembered the moment she felt trapped, the shadows in the dark creeping in on her, and she was helpless to do anything but stay frozen on her feet, waiting with terror blown eyes for someone to recuse her.

That memory was hidden deep in the back of her mind, but some instances where she would be lying in her bed; she would think back on it and tremble in fear.

Perhaps it is why she craved so much control in her life. Because she had never wanted to feel as helpless and vulnerable to her emotions as she did during that day.

Looking down into the darkness of the basement, she let out a shaky breath, her body tensing in fear.

“Sansa, you don’t have to do this,” he worriedly glances sideways at her face.

“Of course, I do sir. My mother’s depending on me to bring the wine and I can’t let her down,” she sighs.

“Jon. Call me Jon, remember we’re not at school,” Jon points out.

She gives a pause and continues, a warmth feeling her body when she says his name. She chooses to ignore this.

“Jon, then.”

“Let me go down there instead and bring the wine.”

“You wouldn’t know which wine to pick out anyways. So, I have to do this,” she runs her hand through her hair, waving away his request.

“Okay, but I’m not letting you go down there all alone by yourself, Sansa,” he fiercely establishes.

“I don’t need your protection, Jon,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s just a walk down the stairs. Besides I’ve got a torch with me,” she waves the object around in her right hand.

She could see his mouth opening and closing for a few seconds, wondering on what to say. He gives out a sigh instead.

“It’s not protection I’m offering. It’s company because everyone needs company in the dark.”

She knew that he was right. And if she was being honest with herself, she was pleased and reassured beyond a doubt that he had chosen to accompany her, knowing she would not have to deal with her fear alone.

She felt stronger for some reason she did not want to acknowledge at this point.

“Okay, I’ll let you come with me but don’t try and scare me, okay. I mean it because the last time I came with someone down here, it was with Robb and he jumped out of the shadows to scare me,” she warns him with a pointed look.

“I’ll never do that, Sansa,” Jon says, looking at her with soft eyes and a serious expression.

She swallows nervously, his soft dark eyes creating a sort of nudge in her stomach. She just nods, hoping to ignore the feeling she was beginning to realise.

“Right, let’s go then,” she breaths out loudly, trying to act braver than she felt.

With a tight grip on her torch, she steps forward, walking down the wooden steps of the basement, each step a gap away from each other. She could feel every muscle in her body tightening, and the rapid thumping of her heart against her chest. Her fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into her palm.

Sansa keeps close to stair railing, gripping on it so tightly that her knuckles whiten. She knows that Jon notices her increasing fear as they descend downwards, as he keeps close to her, making sure his presence provides her with comfort.

She almost thanks him aloud for it.

A hidden crack on the steps make her lose her footing. She mentally swore in her head for wearing heels today. Quick hands grab her thin waist, supporting her upright as she gives out a gasp. Looking towards the side she spots Jon with an anxious and panicked expression.

Her heartbeat speeds up even more.

“Are you okay, Sansa?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Jon. It seems as if you’re always there to keep me from falling onto the ground,” she jokes.

He nods hesitantly, his eyes running over her body, checking to make sure that she was uninjured with his own eyes.

She felt a bucket of warmth pool in her chest at his actions.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she narrows her eyes, shifting her head around in order to look for the wine crate. Spotting a wooden crate, she walks closer towards it, her light from the torch shining directly in front of it.

Moving closely towards it, she tries to move the top of the crate in order to get the wine, but it seemed as if it was not budging an inch. Huffing with frustration, she removes her hands to take a catch her breath.

“Is it stuck?” He questions.

Sansa nods with moving her eyes from the crate. “Yeah. It’s a new crate because the old one had run out a few days ago. My dad used the last bottle for when my uncle Benjen came to visit.”

“Here, let me try,” he suggests moving closer.

Pushing his fingers through the top, he grips and pulls, but it was still stuck.

“I think we need some sort of wrench. I think it’s because it is brand new, it hasn’t been open and the hidden dust in this basement has probably got through its cracks,” he informs her.

With a glance around the room, she moves towards the alcove and picks up a metal wrench. She moves towards Jon and hands it out for him nervously.

“Do you mind if you do it? It’s just that I figured with your strength, you’ll have a better chance opening it than I would,” she explains hurriedly, with a quick glance at the muscles peeking out from his shirt.

Taking the object from her hand, he gives her a soft smile. “Sure, I don’t mind. It’ll be no problem at all, Sansa. I came to help you remember?”

She gives him a wide beam, making a twang echo in his chest. He avoids her eyes quickly before he did something he would regret. Taking off his suit jacket and giving it to her to hold, he rolls his sleeves up to his wrist, kneels down and gets to work.

He breaks the silence, after a few minutes of her watching him.

“So, how good can this wine be that your mother so insists on you getting it?” Jon question, throwing a curious look towards the crate.

Sansa gives out a small laugh and crosses her arms. “Oh, trust me. You have not lived on this world until you have tasted Dornish wine.”

“Really?” he chuckles, the sound resonating deep inside Sansa’s chest.

“Yes. Strong wines, especially from Dorne are as dark as blood, with a sweet taste. I first tasted it when I was thirteen years old. I thought there wasn’t anything in the whole world that could taste better than this type of wine,” she grins.

Jon smiles back, pleased at the fact that Sansa did not seem to be afraid anymore. But he did not know whether it due to his presence being comforting for her that removed that fear; he hoped it was.

“You’ll be surprised, actually. Ale can taste good as well,” he jokes with a smirk.

Sansa’s nose crinkles in disgust, her eyebrows furrowing closely together.

“Please tell me you are joking. It’s the worst thing I have ever tasted,” she says in revulsion, thinking back of the memory.

He lets out a bellyful laugh at her expression, the edges of his eyes crinkling up in joy. Sansa stared for a second, thinking he had never looked as handsome as he did when he smiled. She was glad it was her that made him smile in the process though.

She looks away before he can notice her staring at him.

“Yes, ale can be quite distasteful for some if they are not used to the taste,” he chortles.

“You’re telling me,” Sansa scoffs.

A comfortable silence settles between them as Sansa watches Jon grunt in effort from opening the crate. The familiar throbbing arrived between her legs.

This is so wrong, she thinks to herself. He’s your _teacher_ and not to mention it’s inappropriate. She had to get a grip on herself and fast. Breathing out deeply, she shifts her mind elsewhere before her emotions got a hold of her.

“So, what made you become a teacher then?” she questions suddenly.

He gave a surprised glance before looking back at the crate. “Um, I always liked being passionate about teaching kids, I guess. And it pays well for a career,” he grins.

She became silent for a few minutes, a thought occurring to her. Her voice comes out quietly with a hint of sadness.

“Jon, do you think I’m a kid? Is that why you hate me?” she softly asks.

His head whips round so fast, he was surprised that he did not feel dizzy. “What! Why would you ask that?” he demands.

“Don’t lie to me, Jon. Just tell me if you do.”

“No, Sansa. I do not hate you. How could I?” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Because you always ignore me in lessons when I put my hand up. And you never put my name up on the board for being a hard worker. I think it’s because you believe I’m just a little girl who can’t do anything for herself,” she explains resolutely.

Jon looked incredulous. He had jumped up from his spot on the ground, and had spun around to look at her in the face.

“Sansa, no! You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t hate you or think of you as a kid at all. You’ve got it all wrong. You’re the most mature woman I have ever seen. And the hard worker thing is just for those in the class who struggle more than others, so it’s to give them encouragement,” he explains heatedly.

“But you’ve never encouraged me in class. You always avoid me. But if you do hate me, then why did you come down here with me?” she continues.

“No! I do not hate you, Sansa. Believe me, I would know most definitely. And I came down here with you because I could not stand to leave you alone,” he chuckles mirthlessly, a dark expression overcoming him.

He pauses for a second, narrowing his eyes at her. “Wait. Sansa, where is all this coming from? Why would you think that I hated you?”

She takes a deep breath, her nerves calming down enough for her to think properly. “I’m sorry, Jon. Please forgive my outburst.”

Jon still looked determined. “Sansa, tell me why you think I hated you? What brought this on?”

She gives out a tired sigh. “Okay. Ever since I was young, I have been afraid of the dark due to a traumatic experience as a child. And nowadays, the dark brings out some of my darkest thoughts due to my emotions being out of control.”

Jon listens closely with a solemn countenance.

“And I suppose that being down here in the dark with you, my mind tends to wonder.”

“Sansa, listen to me. I do not hate you, but I admire you actually. You are basically one of most mature woman I know. I could never hate you, even if I tried,” he explains passionately, his arms waving all around the place.

“What does that mean?” she asks curiously, biting her lip.

He falters for a second, his eyes glancing at her lip and darkening. She can see something in his eyes break, making her heart speed up in faster.

“You know what. _Fuck_ the wine,” he growls before closing the distance.

She did not get to ask him what he meant before the gap between them was bridged and soft lips claimed her own in a gentle kiss.

Sansa’s mind went blank for a moment, unable to process what was going on. Then, her lips began to tentatively move against his, all notion of inappropriateness thrown out of the door. She felt him grip her waist, pushing her backwards until her back softly hit the basement wall. One of her hands went to grip the back of his neck whilst the other ran through his hair.

She was right at the beginning, his hair really was as soft as it looked, she thought dazedly between his lips. 

Perhaps it was the thought of doing something so forbidden and naughty with her English teacher, when her whole family was upstairs, or maybe she was just simply tired of fighting her feelings; either way, instead of the push she intended to give him, Sansa found herself melting into the kiss as she allowed Jon to take complete control. Her rebellious side had over-powered her rule- abiding side, and she was unable to listen.

He pulled his mouth from her lips only to quest hungrily down her throat.

“Jon, this is so wrong,” she moans out.

“I know,” he whispers back without breaking away.

Both of them could not will themselves to move away. Jon was sure that if someone burst in on them like this at this very moment, he would not be able to move away from her.

She was like an addicting drug.

His hands brushed the skin of her arms, and then moved down to grip her waist confidently and steadfastly.

Sansa, in the moment had forgotten about the trouble they could both be in. All her worries and struggles were erased from her mind, and all she could process was _Jon_.

Jon’s lips.

Jon’s heavy breathing.

Jon’s hands.

Jon’s gentleness.

A sound of laughter from upstairs broke them out of their daze. Sansa broke the kiss, looking at the dishevelled appearance of Jon. His hair was messy, his eyes had darkened considerably and his white shirt untucked from his slacks.

A deep throb of desire ran through her again, almost making her crush her lips against his again.

Sansa’s lips felt as if they were on fire. Her heart was thundering rapidly inside her chest and she looked towards Jon, waiting for him to say anything.

He swallows with difficult, his eyes glancing up to lock onto her own lust blown gaze. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I should never have taken advantage of you like that. I’ll understand if you decide to file a complaint against me,” he whispers sadly.

Sansa could barely speak in her shock. Her silence made him even more worried.

“Sansa. Please say something.”

“No. I won’t do it,” she firmly interrupts, breaking out of her daze.

“What?” he questions confusedly.

“I’m not going to report you, Jon. I wanted this as well. So, don’t only blame yourself only,” she says, straightening out her dress with both hands.

Jon’s mouth firmly presses together as he clenches his jaw.

“This cannot carry on, Sansa. Do you hear me? I won’t let you put yourself in trouble because I could not contain my emotions,” he fiercely claims.

“Why not?” she answers back.

“Because you deserve better than me.”

“There’s no one better than you Jon,” she whispers to him.

He looks shocked for a minute before giving her a tired look. He then walks over to grab the wine and tucks his shirt back into his trousers.

Jon was right about one thing, Sansa thought to herself. Some things in the world _do_ taste better than Dornish wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all didn't seriously think they were going to fuck in the basement with their parents above them?


	7. Of Arguments and Advice

Jon was avoiding her.

He knew it was the right thing to do after the basement incident. He had crossed a line that day and he’ll be damned if he did it again. He could not allow himself to lose control like that ever again, to allow his selfish desires to overtake his body without any regard for the dangerous consequences. So, for the next week, his mind and logic overpowered his emotions.

He knew Sansa did not like this one bit.

He could feel her piercing gaze burning into the side of his head whenever he walked past her in the school hallways, or deliberately refused to glance in her direction during class. It almost made him want to give up his avoidance of her.

Some days he felt like giving into his feelings. They were mentally exhausting him in keeping up his actions, when all he wanted to do was sink down on to his knees in front of her and ask her to kiss him again.

He felt like a madman, enslaved to her charms no matter what he did to avoid it. He had to get control of his own body back before it was too late and he was too far gone in his feelings to retreat; a notion he feared had already happened.

During the week, he evaded her attempts to talk to him alone by eating his lunch in the staff room instead of the canteen as he normally would. Unfortunately, this meant that he had to deal with Melisandre’s less than subtle advances in order to get his attention.

Both, Sansa and Jon had not spoken properly ever since the basement. Even in lessons it was different. They did not speak before the lesson as Jon would arrive later than usual, when all the students were already present. Nor did they speak after the lesson as he was already out of the door before Sansa could even approach him.

Needless to say, it was exhausting and hurting the both of them.

Jon however, did come close to giving up completely by overhearing a certain conversation with Sansa and her friends during the lesson.

Despite trying to avoid her, he still kept the seating plans which meant she was still placed on the front table because it would look suspicious to everyone if he changed the seats a few weeks into school without giving any logical reason.

He was sitting on his desk chair, grading a bunch of essays with a red marker pen, his face frowning as he tried to make out the illegible scrawl written on a scrunched-up piece of paper. He had allowed the rest of the class to chat amongst themselves while doing their work.

Much to his frustration, Jon’s ears decided to overhear a conversation in which Sansa’s name was mentioned.

“You’ve changed, Sansa. There’s something different about you lately,” Jeyne mentions, curiously throwing glances.

“I’m still the same person, Jeyne. I haven’t done a personality change,” Sansa rolls her eyes without looking up from her work.

“No, but you still look different. It’s like you have a lot on your mind. You barely look as if you’re paying attention to some of the conversations we have and you’re always in a hurry to do something,” Jeyne narrows her eyes at her.

Sansa ignores her friend’s curiosity, choosing to do her work.

“Wait. You have a crush on someone. Don’t you?” Jeyne says, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

Jon’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing in their direction.

“Who is he? Do I know him?” she questions hurriedly.

“Jeyne, stop. There’s no one,” Sansa snaps, glaring at her.

Jeyne narrows her eyes in thought. “There so is somebody. Otherwise, why are you so defensive? Okay, fine don’t tell me who he is. Just tell me if you do have a crush on someone.”

Jon could see from his desk that Sansa’s cheeks had turned pink from blushing hard. Jeyne took this as a yes.

“Oh my god! You have to tell Margaery. I cannot believe you kept this from your best friends!” Jeyne scowls.

“This is precisely why I don’t tell you two. Because you would make a big deal out of it,” Sansa rolls her eyes in exasperation.

“Of course, we would. You’re our best friend, we’re supposed to make a deal out of your crush. So, can I guess who he is seeing as you’re not going to tell us out loud?” she asks with a sly smirk.

Jon, meanwhile felt conflicted with himself. There was a battle between fury at the guy who Sansa had a crush on, and sadness on how fast she seemed to move on from him.

It was what he wanted, he firmly establishes to himself. She had to find someone good for her who was not her teacher. Despite this thought, he listened closer to the conversation, wanting to find out who she liked now.

“Is he a student at our school?” Jeyne asks.

Sansa shakes her head.

“Wait, if he’s not a student here then he has to be from somewhere else. Unless he’s out of school,” Jeyne asks thoughtfully.

Sansa’s lack of response made Jeyne’s mouth drop open, her eyes widening in excitement. “You like an older guy. Don’t you?” she demands.

“Jeyne, just drop it. You and Margaery do not even know him,” Sansa cuts in.

The bell rang at this moment, snapping Jon out of his emotional war with himself. The sound reminded him of where he was at that moment.

“Sir, are you okay?” Sam inquires worriedly. “You’re face has gone all red and you look angry at something.”

“I’m fine, Sam. No need to worry,” Jon sighs running his hand through his hair.

Sam did not look convinced but let the subject slide, giving him a nod and walking off with an inquisitive glance thrown Jon’s way.

A cold voice cuts in, making Jon snap his head up and mentally groan for being too slow to get out of the classroom.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Sansa states with a hard expression.

“I have been doing no such thing. You’ve confused me with someone else, Sansa,” he sighs.

“Don’t treat me as if I am child. I can tell when someone has been avoiding me,” she snaps, pursing her lips together in a firm line.

He ignores her, giving her a hard look instead and standing up from his desk chair, placing his clenched fists on the table.

“We have to talk about what happened in the basement. You can’t just keep ignoring it forever. Sooner or later we have to face up to what we did.”

Jon clenches his fists even tighter. “We’re done having this conversation, Sansa. The lesson is over and it is time for you to leave,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

“No, we are not done, Jon!” she yells, glaring at him.

“Shush, keep your voice down. Someone could hear you,” he says worriedly glancing towards the classroom door.

“Good,” she snarls. “I hope they do, maybe then you’ll be forced to have this conversation instead.”

He lets out a tired sigh, his resolve quickly weakening when it came to her.

“What do you want me to say, Sansa?”

“I want you to own up to your feelings instead of avoiding them. Or at least give me an explanation as to why you kissed me that day,” she pleads at him with tearful blue eyes, her voice softening in the process.

“You want me to admit that I have strong feelings for you. That I hate every male who gazes at you with lust and desire in their eyes. That I cannot stand to see you hurt in anyway,” he demands angrily.

“I want you to tell me the truth, Jon,” she says softly looking up at him.

“Because, I do! Even though I know it is wrong and I could get arrested, I cannot stop what I feel for you and believe me I have tried to stop it in any way that I can,” he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not going to get arrested, Jon. Not for liking someone, you cannot control your emotions,” Sansa argues with him.

“No, I cannot control my emotions, but I _can_ control my actions,” Jon says resolutely.

Sansa pauses for a second, dread filling her stomach. “What does that mean?”

“It means that whatever we had before stops. From now on I’m just your teacher and you’re just my student. Nothing more, nothing less,” he explains stubbornly.

“You cannot keep making decisions on this yourself. I deserve to have some say in this as well. After all I have strong feelings for you myself,” Sansa furiously states, crossing her arms and glowering at him.

Jon’s expression falters into vulnerability and disbelief. “You have feelings for me,” he asks softly.

Sansa nods earnestly. Jon hardens his expression once more, clenching his fists at his side.

“Nonetheless, this cannot continue into something we would both regret in the long run.”

“You would never be something I would regret, Jon. Why can’t you see that?” she shouts indignantly.

“Because you deserve someone better, Sansa! Someone who is closer to your age and not a member of authority who has taken advantage of you,” he cries.

Her mouth drops open in shock.

“Is that what you think you’ve done? Because if so, then you know absolutely nothing Jon Snow,” she argues, her eyes flaring up in rage.

Jon gives out a scoff. “You’ve clearly moved on anyways. I heard about your crush on the older boy.” 

“What older boy?” she asks furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Sansa. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I really have no idea- “

A voice cuts her off before Sansa could question him further.

“Um, am I interrupting something?” asks a meek looking boy standing near the door with sheets of paper in his arms, wearing a confused expression.

“No.” Jon replies quickly. “Miss Stark, here was just leaving.”

Sansa lets out an angry sigh before walking out, but not before giving Jon a look over the boy’s shoulder.

Jon ignores this, focusing his attention on the newcomer. He did the right thing, he reassures himself.

* * *

Sansa was infuriated as she slammed her house door shut.

Who did he think he was making decisions like that without consulting her opinion on the matter? Men were so troublesome, she thought darkly to herself. They were so infuriatingly cocky in their belief to have the audacity to do anything as they pleased. And Jon Snow was not any different, she scowled.

He didn’t stop to ask her about her feelings in the matter and just did as he pleased.

She stormed into the kitchen, feeling anger pulsating through her body. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down in order to think properly.

A sadness then took over her. Was this just a game to him? Did he just consider her as a stupid little girl who was unable to think about the consequences?

Because she had thought about it. And even though she knew it was wrong, she couldn’t stop her feelings from overtaking her. She knew that after Joffrey she was afraid to trust men again, but Jon had proved that some men could be gentle and kind, something she had never experienced from the male gender unless it was her family.

Her romance novels had taught her that passion and love for someone was always worth in the end despite the consequences. And her feelings for Jon was something she had never experienced with anyone, not even in the beginning stages of her relationship with Joffrey.

Walking over to the kitchen cupboard she opened it, looking for the drink she desperately desired at this moment. Reaching out her arm, she grabbed the bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other.

It was time to take her mind of things that were giving her a headache.

* * *

 

“So, are you ever going to tell me why you’re moping like a puppy on _my_ leather couch?”

Jon glances up from the said couch he was lying on to blink wearily at the silver haired women. She wore a curious expression on her face as she stared at Jon who was eating ice cream at this very moment.

“You look like a woman who has just being dumped by her boyfriend,” the woman states with a smirk.

“Gee, thanks Daenerys,” he sighs sitting up straight to look at her in the face.

“So, can I have a reason as to why my nephew decided to barge into my house so suddenly, lie on my couch eating ice cream while watching some documentary?”

Jon shifts uncomfortably. “It’s nothing. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“So, do a lot of people after work, but you don’t see them with puppy dog eyes,” Dany rolls her eyes. “Wait, is this a girl problem you have?”

“No,” Jon is quick to reply.

Dany narrows her eyes, looking intently into his eyes while he avoided hers. “Really? Then why have I been hearing you give out love-struck sighs every three minutes, which by the way I can hear from the kitchen?”

“Okay, fine I have a girl problem. Are you happy now?” he sighs.

“Wait. Is this your subtle way of asking for advice without directly saying it out loud?” she smirks, crossing her arms.

“I’m glad you noticed,” Jon says sarcastically.

“So, who is she? She must be quite a girl to have you this obsessed over her,” Dany raises an eyebrow.

Jon keeps quiet, shifting in his seat nervously.

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me who she is. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

 Jon knew his aunt could be persistent and stubborn when she wanted to be.  He admired this trait of hers, but sometimes he knew it could be irritating, especially when he wanted to avoid this particular subject.

He had met her when he was eighteen years old, after his mother had told him he had a living relative on his father’s side of the family. At first Jon did not want anything to do with her, judging by the type of father he had but after careful persuasion from his mother, he decided to give her a chance.

He certainly did not expect her to be so young, considering that he was expecting a middle-aged woman who looked similar to his father. What he saw though, was a young girl (near his age) with a kind smile and a caring nature. She had a boyfriend at the time, who she was living with now called Drogo.

Personally, his aunt’s boyfriend scared him the first time Jon saw him. Drogo was a muscular biker with large arms and an intense stare that scared even the bravest person. However, Jon knew that Drogo loved Dany, just as she loved him and they have been going strong for many years.

“I think I might like this girl,” Jon slowly states.

“Okay, what seems to be the problem with that then?” Dany asked confusedly.

“That’s exactly the problem. I’m not supposed to like her, there are consequences with this. Especially if other people find out,” he explains in frustration. 

Dany stared at him with soft, caring eyes. “Jon, if you like this girl then you shouldn’t worry about what other people are saying. After all a relationship only has two people, not several.”

“It’s not that simple,” he sighs, running his hands over his face.

“It can be. You’re just making it more complicated than it needs to be,” she argues.

He opens his mouth to answer, before she cuts him.

“Just think about whether she makes you happy. Because if she does then who cares what other people think. We’re all humans who feel intense emotions. You just need to take advantage of it otherwise you’re going to be living with regrets for the rest of your life.”

He pauses for a moment, contemplating on her words with a thoughtful gaze.

“See, you know I’m right,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I don’t appreciate your gloating at my expense,” he rolls his eyes.

She gives out a laugh before gazing at Jon with a serious expression. “Seriously though, you should take advantage of it. You’ll never know what the outcome is if you don’t.”

Jon gives an accepting nod before turning to face her.

“Thank you for the advice. Now I think I should be getting home before Drogo arrives. I don’t want to think about what you two are going to be doing even with me in the house,” he shivers in disgust.

Dany laughs as he walks out of her door.

* * *

It was eight o’clock in the evening when he arrived home.

As soon as he went in the house, he went to check on his mother who was sleeping in her own bed. He gave her a quick kiss on the check and walked into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich; his thoughts quickly drifting to his aunt’s earlier words.

The ring of the doorbell made him snap his head round, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion on who could be knocking at this time. Most people were in their houses, watching TV or sleeping.

Trudging up to the doorway, he opened the front door, his eyes widening at the familiar girl who he was just thinking about a few minutes ago, standing on his doorstep with a determined expression. Judging by her glazed over eyes, Jon observed that she was quite intoxicated with alcohol.

“Sansa?” he asks worriedly, his eyes narrowing on her figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The joys of alcohol. Especially when you're alone with someone else. Things start happening...


	8. Giving In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best chapter I've written. So please point out mistakes or errors.  
> Sara.

Sansa had to blink twice in order to focus on the blurred face in front of her.

She never drank to excess but the dizziness she felt from the wine made her head spin. More so, now that she stared into Jon's confused and worried eyes. She couldn't remember how many glasses of wine she consumed, only that by the third glass she could feel herself becoming tipsy.

There was a voice at the back of mind, reminding her that she would regret her actions in the morning. Especially as she knew she was going to get a major headache as well.

Sansa could not recall ever having been as drunk as she was at this moment, in all of her life. She only had alcohol during special family occasions or during parties, and that was only a glass or two.

It reminded her just out of control her emotions and actions were. And it was all because of Jon Snow, she thought darkly.

Crossing her arms, she glares right at him, through her glazed over eyes, ignoring his questions on how drunk she was and whether her family were aware that she was here.

"Sansa, answer me. Are you okay? Does anyone know you're here?"

Ignoring him, she pushes his body out of the way and walks into his house towards the living room, waiting for him to come after her. He followed her silently at the back of her heels, with a look of confusion and concern written all over his face.

"Sansa, do you need me to get something for you? Do you need help?" Jon furrows him eyebrows worriedly.

"Can I have a glass of water?" she calmly asks.

"Sure, just wait right here and I'll get it for you," he nods vigorously, and walks off into the kitchen with a quick, concerned glance at her face.

She was surprised that she did not explode in anger at him immediately. Before she stormed over to his house, she could feel her body pulsating in anger by remembering his previous words to her in the classroom. She let her emotions overtake her, which in turn made her walk out of her house and ring on his doorbell.

But as soon as she saw his face, she experienced the same familiar pang in her chest, as well as the fluttering sensation in her stomach. Her anger only slightly lessened, allowing her mind to overtake her body.

She hated how much he affected her, making her shift through her emotions so quickly and without warning.

He walked back into the room and handed her the glass of water. Sansa takes several sips out of the glass, already feeling her mind clearing from the intoxicated haze, enough to make her focus her blue eyes clearly on his face.

"We need to talk, Jon. And a proper talk as well, not like the argument we had this morning at school," she cuts him off brusquely before he could open his mouth to speak.

"Yes, Sansa. We do need to talk. But we'll talk in the morning, when you have a clearer head," he sighs, a look of resignation overcoming him.

"No, I'm fine. I can do this, I'm not as drunk as you think me to be," she purses her lips in frustration, giving him an intense stare.

"What about your parents, aren't they wondering where you are?"

"I'll just tell them I'm going to see Margaery, she'll cover for me," she rolls her eyes.

Jon gave a sigh, knowing she could be persistent due to her stubborn nature. He gave a nod, waiting for her to speak.

"Look, I know you want to protect from whatever it is you want to protect me from, but you need to understand that I'm not a child and I can protect myself just as well, and make my own decisions," she explains hurriedly.

Jon opens his mouth to answer. Sansa see this and cuts him off.

“No, don’t interrupt me. Just listen to what I have to say and then you can speak after I have finished,” she states firmly with her mouth pressed in a firm line.

Jon nods his acceptance reluctantly.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight here, you did _not_ take advantage of me. If you did then I would have pushed you away as soon as you came near me in the basement and reported you to the authorities. The fact that I didn’t proves that I have feelings for you, and want you as much as you want me,” Sansa passionately establishes with motions of her hands.

“It’s not that simple, Sansa. I’m the one who is older than you and not to mention your teacher. I should have known better instead of acting like a hormone infused teenage boy who has never seen a girl before,” Jon softly states, his eyes downcast in shame.

“I don’t want you to know better, Jon,” she snaps. “I just want you to be honest with me about how you feel, and stop shutting me out as if you think it’ll get rid of your feelings towards me. You can’t keep thinking of yourself only!”

Jon’s mouth opens in shock before closing together, his teeth clenches and his face turns red in anger. “Is that why you think I was avoiding you?” he demands.

Sansa glowers at him and gives him a stiff nod.

“Well, you’re wrong. That was never my intention on shutting you out. It was something completely different,” he hisses out, his eyes blazing in fury.

“Oh, please enlighten me on why you thought, avoiding me would get rid of your feelings,” she rolls her eyes.

“I know my feelings for you will never go away, no matter how much I want it to. I’ve tried everything to get rid of it and it still will not go, no matter how much I want it to.”

“Is this a joke? Is this just a game to you, Jon?” she questions with angry tears glistening in her eyes.

Jon pauses for a moment, his heart clenching at the tears in Sansa’s eyes. His confusion at her words grows.

“What are you talking about, Sansa? Nothing about this situation is funny whatsoever,” he claims with a raised eyebrow.

“So, then why do you keep giving me so much hope? You always do something that makes me feel good which messes my mind up, making me think about how strong my feelings are for you. And then you just ignore me without so much as a glance in my direction, making me question whether I'm just going crazy, thinking you could ever like me too," she cries out.

“Sansa, no! Please don’t cry, I can’t stand it when you cry,” he shakes his head.

“Just tell me why, Jon?” she questions ignoring his plea.

“Because you’re a student and I’m just your teacher, Sansa. It could never have lasted long enough even if we did decide to try whatever this is between us,” he explains sadly, pointing towards himself and Sansa.

“You don’t know that. Nobody knows what could happen and who’s to say what could happen later on, even if we did try. But you don’t know that because you won’t give _us_ a try,” she argues fervently.  

“You also have a future, Sansa. That’s also why I avoided you. You have to study to get into the best university of your choice and you can’t do that if your focused on your small crush on your high school English teacher.”

Sansa looked so angry that Jon was almost afraid that she was going to strike him.

“For fuck’s sake, Jon!” she yells. “When are you going to learn that you cannot make decisions on your own. Don’t I deserve some form of deciding what to do, seen as this is _my_ future we are talking about?” she demands furiously. 

“I just did what I thought was the best idea for the both of us, in this case. You have a future to think about, and I will not let anyone, even me, stop you from getting there.”

“You mean, you did what was best for you,” she claims her nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“This isn’t best for me. I don’t want this as much as you do. Believe me, I want to give in to my feelings and see where this takes us, but I can’t have you worrying about a grown man instead of your future,” he shouts in frustration.

Sansa’s expression falters, her pleading eyes boring into his. He looked away before he gave in and did something stupid. 

“But I can have both, Jon. I can handle studying and my plans for my future, if I have you. And don’t tell me it’s just a small crush. A crush does not compare to the feelings I feel for you, and trust me I have not felt like this for anyone in my entire life,” she says softly.

Sansa could see his resolve starting to weaken, his expression conflicted in determination and doubt. She takes advantage of this and carries on trying to convince him.

“You know, I thought I hated you with the amount you used to annoy me during the first few days,” she chuckles through her tears.

“You did hate me?” he asks with a look of confusion.

“No, of course not. I just thought I did. It was because you made me feel so many emotions all at once than I ever felt during my entire life. It was confusing which in turn made me angry at you,” she states, smiling softly at the memory.

“I felt something for you too. I was scared instead of feeling anger,” Jon answers.

“Why did you feel scared?”

“Because I knew that even though I felt like I was experiencing an emotion that not many people get to feel, it could also be my undoing, not to mention the trouble we could get in,” he implies.

“But we won’t Jon. Get in trouble, I mean. I’m eighteen years old. It not as if I’m a minor,” she explains to him pleadingly.

“No, you’re not a minor, but it’s still illegal because I’m a teacher and you’re my student.”

“It not illegal if we don’t tell anyone about our relationship,” she states, staring expectantly at his face.

Jon pauses for a moment. His mouth drops open in realisation and shock.

“You can’t be serious, Sansa?” he asks in shock.

“Why not?” she challenges with her arms crossed.

“Because you’re talking about a committing a felony by carrying out a secret affair between the two of us without anyone knowing,” he exclaims.

“You think I’m crazy then?” she says defensively, disliking the way Jon was staring at her.

“Of course, I do. It’ll be impossible anyways. Not to mention what your family is going to think about all this. They’ll never trust me with you again,” he answers indignantly.

“It won’t be impossible, Jon. Don’t be silly. But it will be difficult. It’ll be worth it though, especially as it’s with you. And you should stop wondering about what other people are going to think. It’s not their decision.”

A thought occurs to her, making her shift nervously on her feet. She glances up at Jon with sad, blue eyes.

“Do you not feel as strongly as I do for you? Have I misread the situation?” she asks, her eyes shifting nervously back and forth between Jon and the door.

“NO!” he shouts out immediately. “Of course, I feel as strongly as you. I-I love you, Sansa.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes lock onto Jon’s which were filled with fear and resignation.

“I love you too, Jon,” she smiles softly with a glance up at his face.

“No, Sansa. You don’t know what you are saying, you’re drunk at this very moment,” he sighs.

“I’m not as drunk as I was when I arrived at your house. And besides, I know what I want and what I feel. So, don’t try and tell me otherwise,” she claims her eyes glinting with hurt.

“I should never have let you enter the house. What if someone saw you come?” he says running his hand through his hair.

“No one saw me come inside. And stop avoiding the subject, I know you love me, just like I love you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No there isn’t, but we could still get in so much trouble, Sansa,” he weakly says.

He knew his resolve weakened the minute she said that she loved him. God help him, but he was unable to turn her away or reject her, no matter how much his mind was screaming at him to.

He decided to ignore it, focusing on the red head in front of him.

“We’re not going to, not if we’re careful about it,” she persuades with a soft voice, walking closer to him.

 He let her approach, not talking a step back. Her voice had gone deeper, the sound resonating in his head. He swallows nervously, his fingers digging into his palms.

She came to a stop in front of him, looking up through hooded lashes. Jon could smell her body scent- strawberries which made his mouth water. She opened her mouth to whisper, her breath hitting his mouth, allowing a shiver to run down his spine.

“You love me, Jon. Don’t you?”

He gives a nod, not taking his eyes off of her.

“Then we’ll figure it out together. Trust me,” she whispers.

The last of Jon’s walls crumbled as he gave up and let her in, he leaned forward and crushed his lips onto hers.

Neither of them knew who gave out the first moan, as both lips moved against each other. Jon could feel a tightening in his trousers, making him whimper softly. He broke the kiss to look into her lust blown eyes; a throb of desire run through his body.

“Wait, Sansa. My mother’s upstairs, what if she hears?”

“She won’t hear, not if we’re quiet,” Sansa shakes her head.

Jon gives a nod, quickly placing his lips back onto hers again, too weak to even argue. He picks her up without stopping the kiss as she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries her up to his room, closing the bedroom door with a kick of his heel, and places her on his bed.

His tongue gives a swipe of her bottom lip, demanding entrance which she willingly opened. His hands tangled in her soft hair as his mouth hungrily explored hers. He broke away to pepper kisses down on either side of her neck, slowly dipping further down her neck. He growled as he pushed her top up to her waist, the look in his eyes reminiscent of a predator about to devour his prey.  

His hips were pressed against hers, and Sansa could feel just how hard he was through his trousers. Her eyebrow rose as she felt how big he was, without even looking at him. The feel of his fingertips ghosting over her stomach sent a pleasure chill up Sansa’s spine, which Jon noticed.

He gives a smirk against her collarbone, his head barely lifting as he teases her.

“You ready, sweet girl?” he asks, rubbing circles into her skin just above her belly button.

“Jon, please,” she moans pleading.  

His hand slithered its way underneath her shirt before grasping Sansa’s breast. He was kneading her breast, grasping it tightly as he tweaked her hardened nipples between his fingers. Her back involuntarily arched against him, and he let out a deep chuckle which settled in between Sansa’s thighs.

She breathed in sharply, her hands digging into his shoulders.

He continued to tease her breasts, groaning as he pressed his face between her cleavage, licking small circles around them. Sansa’s breath grew even more ragged, as she waiting for his fingers to reach the ever-needed destination between her thighs.

Jon sat up on his knees, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her jeans as he tugs them off and threw it onto the floor. Sansa squirmed in anticipation.

He leaned down pressing tender kisses against the inside of her thighs. He gripped her thighs tightly and pulled her against his mouth, her hips bucking to meet every flick of his tongue along her clit. Sansa’s hands grasped for Jon, holding onto the back of his head to pull him as close as humanly possible. He chuckled at her attempts, the vibration of his mouth against her sensitive nub causing a little shriek to escape her lips.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, watching Sansa’s reaction as he slipped a finger into her aching sex. She threw her head back as he arched those fingers against her sweet spot which he found, gently testing her before thrusting at a leisurely pace. Sansa gripped the sheets as he pressed his tongue against her clit, bringing her right to the brink of orgasm.

She arched against the bed, her body frozen in that position as her walls pulsed around his fingers. She could feel his eyes boring into hers as she came down from her high.

Blinking wearily at his face, she opened her mouth to talk, making herself sit up on the bed.

“What about you, Jon?” she asks softly.

“No. This isn’t about me, Sansa. For now, just sleep,” he says firmly.

Sansa was too exhausted to even argue. The drinking, trying to persuade Jon and the orgasm he had brought her too, had taken its toll on her as she felt her heavy eyes close shut. She just gave him a short nod, and let sleep overtake her.

In the back of her mind, she could feel his hands softly stroking her hair.

She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face, knowing she felt safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so going to hell for writing this.


	9. The Green Eyed Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews and kudos.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Sara.

Sansa opens her eyes to the dimly lit room, though it is daytime no-one has opened the thick drapes. The aching in her skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide, as if a balloon under was her cranium, slowly being inflated and the pressure mounting. She understood at once why they call it a hangover, for it feels as if the blackest of clouds are over her head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.

From the pounding head, vomit taste in her mouth and dehydrated feeling, she figured she must have been drinking heavily last night. Her throat felt like sandpaper. It hurt to move.

Lifting her head out from under the duvet, she looks around the unfamiliar room, the soft sheet of the mattress providing her with comfort. A loud beeping noise made the throbbing of her headache even worse. Reaching out a hand she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and turned it off; it was six am in the morning.

She squints, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva and moans before retreating under the duvet.

"Hey, you're up then," a voice makes her lift her head out from the duvet.

Looking up she squints her eyes, noticing Jon standing in the doorway. The glimpse of his face made everything rush back to her memory like waves crashing upon the beach.

_Jon's dark eyes, her moaning in pleasure, her back arching while his hands..._

She has to blink several times in order to focus on his face. She could feel her cheeks flush red as a warmth fills her belly.

"Sansa?" he calls with a concern written on his face.

The deep northern accent of his voice made the ache between her legs even worse. A tingling sensation settled in her stomach.

"Jon," she answers. She opens her mouth to talk, seeing this, Jon cuts her off before she could speak out loud.

"No, Sansa. Don't talk just rest until you feel better. I brought you aspirin with a glass of water."

He holds out the medicine and water towards her. Grabbing this, she gives him a look of gratefulness and then swallows the pill while taking sips of water.

"It'll make you feel better, especially judging by the amount you drank last night," he laughs softly.

"It already does, thank you," she says, already feeling her throat become marginally better after the water.

She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, from the corner of her eyes.

"It's a school day today. Do you still want to go?" he questions.

She nods. "Yes, I have to keep up my attendance otherwise it's going to affect my application for university," she sighs tiredly, already regretting her actions from last night.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. You can stay at my house...my mother not going to be here until late in the evening."

"No, I need to go home to take a shower and change into my uniform. I don't want to be late," she shakes her head.

"One day is not going to make a difference, Sansa. I suggest you should rest for today and get yourself together. You can go tomorrow."

"No, I have to go today. Besides, I was the one who drank last night which means I should take responsibility for my actions. We did say we were going to give _us_ a try, so I shouldn't act like a child," she points out.

Jon goes silent, his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. His right-hand clenches while he shifts uncomfortably on the spot, near the bed where Sansa was lying.

"Stop that, Jon!" she snaps sharply. "I know what you're thinking."

He locks his dark brown eyes with her blue ones.

"I may have a hangover but I can still tell that you're having doubts about this," she rolls her eyes in exasperation.

Jon looks down, and keeps silent.

Her voice softens, she lets out a sigh. "Look, I know you think I don't remember what happened last night, but I do. Every second of it."

She pauses for a moment, a redness flushes over her cheeks. She clears her throat and continues.

"I remember _everything_. And I don't regret it. I still meant what I said last night...I love you, nothing is going to change all that," she establishes firmly.

Jon gives a nod, looking up at her. "And I also meant what I said as well, I love you too. I'm sorry for doubting you," he apologies sincerely.

"It's okay, Jon. As long as you come to me the next time you have any doubts. This is only going to work if we both trust each other, not if we're making decisions by ourselves."

"I will. It's not going to be easy, Sansa. We have to be careful, otherwise we're going to get into a lot of trouble," he runs his hands through his messy hair.

"We won't, I'll make sure of it," she promises with resolution.

He gives her a smile and leans into her, lips brushing against each other gently. Sansa pulls back suddenly, starling Jon for a second.

"Jon, you can't kiss me now. I have morning breath," she whines playfully.

He lets out a mirthful laugh, his eyes lighting up in a teasing grin.

"Well no wonder, I kept wondering why something smelled bad," he grins in amusement.

She gives him a playful glare, the sides of her mouth twitching as she clutched the pillow on the opposite side of the bed, and whacks Jon on the side.

He lets out a laugh and leans forward to grab her by the forearms, pulling her into his arms. He couldn't help but notice how well she fit in his arms, as if she was made for him.

"I don't care if you have morning breath. I would kiss my girl, regardless of it," he softly says.

"So, I'm your girl now?" she questions, with a hint of seriousness to the playful tone.

"Of course, you are. I would have it any other way," he looks her the eyes with a tender look.

She gives him a smile, her eyes lit up in joy. With that type of smile aimed at him, Jon knew he would dedicate himself to making sure she smiled like that every day.

If she looked at him like that then, he wouldn't mind doing anything she wanted. It would be worth it in the end.

* * *

 

Sansa could feel her patience waning quickly.

She was tapping her fingertips against the cold and hard, wooden table with her pen tapping infuriatingly against her exercise book. She had a bored expression written on her face while staring at the Mr Mormont, the maths teacher droning on about the equations written on the whiteboard.

Maths was never her best subject. She still got good grades for it, but she hated the subject overall. The stuffy classroom wasn't helping with the whole atmosphere of the tedious lesson. Stiff collars, loose ties and restless expressions were what everybody in the classroom was feeling.

She looked longingly outside the classroom window, spotting the trees outside, billowing in the breeze. Despite being November, the school classrooms became hot very quickly which made it impossible to concrete on the lesson.

She wished Jon was with her. At least then, she could have something to distract her with against the stuffy room.

A loud knock on the knock on the classroom made the majority of the class snap out of their daze and glance towards the door, happy to have a distraction. Looking up from her work, Sansa spots that it's Melisandre, the Philosophy teacher.

"Hello, sir. May I borrow Sansa for a moment please?" she asks looking directly at her.

How did she know her name? Sansa knew she saw the teacher in the hallways when she passed her, and during lunch hours when she stood near Jon. But the other teacher had never actually acknowledged her properly; she mostly just ignored Sansa.

Mr Mormont nods with a dismissive hand, and then turns back around the continue the lesson. Melisandre extends one long finger (lengthened by the false pieces of plastic attached to her nails) and points in Sansa's direction, motioning her to approach.

Nervously, Sansa stands up from her seat, brushes out her skirt and follows her, ignoring the looks of envy thrown her way from the other students.

As they did not have any lessons together, Sansa wondered why the other teacher needed her. A thought occurred to her, her blood running cold.

It could have been about Jon and her, she thought in fear. She must have noticed the way Jon's eyes drifted towards her during those lunch hours and she's probably discovered everything.

Tensing her body, Sansa's mind went into overdrive. She had to protect Jon no matter what happened. He couldn't take the blame. With her heart in her mouth, Sansa prepared herself as they both came to a stop outside in the hallways.

Melisandre reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it over to Sansa. Giving her confident smirk, Melisandre crossed her arms.

"What is it?" Sansa asks with furrowed eyebrows, glancing at the paper curiously.

Melisandre flaps her hand with a dismissive motion as if to waft away her question.

"It's just about Mr Snow and I going for a...school meeting. Yes, it's just a time and a date for a school meeting."

"So, what do you want me to do with it then?" Sansa asks despite the feeling of disdain arising in her chest.

"I want you to give that to him when you see him. I only work half days so I'm unable to give it to him myself, and I know you're in his class," Melisandre answers.

Without waiting for an answer, the teacher turns her back and walks away from Sansa down the hallway. Sansa tucks the note into the palm of hand while walking back to the classroom. When she reaches her seat, she places the note into her bag, forgetting about it for the remainder of the lesson.

It's not until the end of the lesson, when Margaery asked, that she remembered the letter.

"So, what did the Red Woman want?" Margaery asked walking with Sansa to her next lesson.

"Who?" Sansa questions with confusion.

"Melisandre, obviously. What did she want?" Margaery rolls her eyes.

"Oh. She wanted me to give a note to Mr Snow?"

Sansa had gotten so used to calling Jon by his first name that it became unfamiliar to refer to him by his second. She couldn't mess up though, in case other students became suspicious. She had to be careful, for both their sakes.

"What kind of note? What did it say?"

"I don't know, I'm not supposed to look at it," she sighs in exasperation.

"She likes him you know," Margaery claims with a sly smirk.

"Who? What are you talking about, Margaery?"

"Melisandre. She likes Mr Snow."

Sansa almost stopped in tracks. Her stomach gave a sudden lurch. Swallowing nervously, she takes a deep breath and speaks, hoping her voice was steady.

"What! No! She too old for him anyways," she quickly dismisses.

"She does. And no one cares if she's older, it's not as if she's in her fifties. Also, who's to say that he doesn't like her back. He could, you never know," Margaery teases, unaware of Sansa jaw clenching tightly.

"He doesn't like her," she snaps sharply.

Margaery narrows her eyes in suspicion. "How do you know? He could like her. I mean she _is_ hot."

"She's not," Sansa glares directly in front of her.

"What's up with you? Normally you couldn't wait to find out gossip like this," Margaery points out with a look of confusion.

Sansa gives out a weary sigh. She could still hear the thumping of her heart in her ears. Unclenching her fists, she turns to meet Margaery's expression.

"Sorry, I've just got a headache. I didn't mean to take my anger out on you," she apologies, feeling herself calming down.

"Have you got a hangover?" Margaery's grin grew wider much to Sansa's chagrin. "Oh my God! You do, don't you?"

She keeps silent, choosing to concrete on opening her locker instead.

"You got drunk on a school night. Wow, and I thought you were supposed to be the good girl who follows all the rules," she teases.

Sansa turns around to give Margaery a pointed look, but before she could answer her, Jon walked past them in the hallway. She tried not to stare at him, avoiding his quick glance. She could feel his eyes on her back, a sudden shiver ran down her spine.

She kept her face composed, not wanting Margaery to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"He totally just looked you up and down!" her friend announces gleefully.

"Don't be silly, Margaery. He was probably just looking this way accidently," she hoped her voice was steady enough to conceal the butterflies that wanted to erupt from her stomach.

Margaery raised her eyebrow. "And he just also 'happened' to eye you up as well?" she says sarcastically.

Sansa ignored her, wishing her friend wasn't so perceptive at time.

"I bet his dic- "

"MARGAERY!" she shouts, cutting of what she was about to say.

Her friend throws her head back, and lets out a laugh.

"Oh, lighten up Sansa. Don't be such a prude," Margaery rolls her eyes. "It's not as if you're a virgin anyways."

Sansa was about to open her mouth to answer back, when the school bell rang, indicating it was time for lunch.

"Look, you go on ahead to the canteen, and I'll just give this letter to him quickly and I'll be there," Sansa suggests.

Margaery gives a nod and walks off in the other direction. Sansa heads straight for Jon's classroom, the nerves in her stomach growing larger. She spots him through the door, packing his things up in his bag. Waiting in the corridor for the other students to go out, she reaches into her bag, taking out the note.

Looking at the note, curiosity got the better of her, making her open the notes and decide to read what was written.

_Hey, Jon_

_I was hoping we could go out for a drink sometime soon. I know all the work you do during school must exhaust you, so you might need some relaxation. I'd love to have a deeper conversation with you than in the staff room._

_Melisandre._

Sansa lets out a scoff, noticing the phone number written on the bottom of the paper. Most of the boys the school liked the teacher as she was seen as 'hot'. Most of the parents were also powerless to her seductive nature as well, Sansa had come to notice.

Out of all the people she could have had, she wanted Jon instead. The scowl on her face deepen as she felt a burst of jealousy and anger consume her. As she noticed the classroom was finally cleared, she pushed opened the door and walked in.

Jon was cleaning the whitebeard when he turns around and notices Sansa waling in. The smile on his face dims as he notices that she looked angry for some reason.

"Sansa, what are you doing here?"

She walks forward and throws the note onto the desk.

"I got pulled out of Maths to be a delivery girl," she snarls, glaring at him.

Looking at the note on his desk in confusion, he walks round his desk, picks it up and reads it. He lets out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry about this, this was all her. I had nothing to do with it," he runs his hands through his hair.

"She likes you," Sansa retorts sharply.

"I know, and I keep avoiding her advances. I don't like her, believe me."

He screws up the note in his palm, walks towards the corner of the room and drops it in the bin.

"The only person I have feelings for is _you_. I'm not interested in other woman, not when I have you," he establishes.

Sansa's features soften, letting out a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't realise how hard it would be knowing other women like you. And they are nearer to your age," she looks down in sadness.

Jon opens his arms out, gesturing to her to come into his arms. "Come here."

Jon reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her close. He wraps his arms around her waist, while she snuggles closely into his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of Jon. She plays with the buttons on his white shirt.

"I know it's hard. But I love you, not anyone else. I don't care about Melisandre or any other woman when I have you," he promises.

He leans down and places a tender kiss on her lips. "No woman compares to you, Sansa," he says softly.

Sansa's pulse increases. The jealousy inside her calming down from his words. She nods against his chest, not wanting to leave the safe encompass.

"What are you doing after school?" Jon asked suddenly, she looks up at him with confusion clear on her face.

"Nothing, I'm just going to go home and study. Why?" she asks.

"Let me pick you up, after everyone has gone. We could go and get your favourite desert. I heard you like lemon cakes," he offers.

Sansa nods, picking her head up from Jon's chest. She grins widely, excitement clear on her face.

"Yes, we can go...but how did you know I like lemon cakes?" she curiously asks.

"I heard Jeyne and you talking about it a few weeks ago," he rolls his eyes. "Be careful, Sansa otherwise I'll have to move you two away from each other if you keep talking too much," he teases playfully.

"But if you move me away from the front of the class, how will you stare at me all lesson?" she asks cheekily, giving him a playful wink.

"Goodbye, Sansa," he dismisses her with a short laugh.

She blows him a kiss as she leaves his classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone actually like lemon cakes? I feel as if they are too sweet, personally.


	10. Sweet Pleasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all enjoying this story. Oh, and things get a bit heated in this chapter.  
> What about that second episode though? Euron is going to become my new favourite villain soon. And the fucking crypt scene killed me.  
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Sara.

Ever since the last bell rang, indicating the end of the school day, Sansa had been in the library waiting until 4'0 clock arrived. It was the time that her and Jon had both agreed on, as they knew that most of the students would have gone home at this time. This meant that she could get into his car without anyone noticing.

The librarian had given her a peculiar look ever since she had come into the building after her last lesson, confused on why a student would want to willingly stay at school longer than was necessary. Personally, Sansa felt as if the librarian was miffed at the fact that she would not be able to flirt with the science teacher, who was sitting a table away from her.

She was currently hidden between two book cases, sitting on the floor instead of at a table. She had a book in her lap but was not reading it, choosing to flick through the pages instead to occupy her idle hands.

Her foot tapped anxiously on her floor, her mind racing with thoughts. She had ignored the texts she had gotten from both Margaery and Jeyne as she was not in the mood to talk to the both of them. She knew they would just question her on her whereabouts and Sansa was too nervous about her date with Jon to make up an excuse.

She was scared she would just blurt out the truth on where she was going and who with. Despite both her friends jokingly teasing her, on occasion about her crush on Jon, she knew they would be shocked if they found out the real truth.

And that was that she was having an affair with her high school English teacher. Sansa massaged her forehead, the whole situation felt like a badly written story on a TV show that would end badly.

Truth of the matter was that even though she had convinced Jon with the affair (albeit begrudgingly as he still had doubts), she was scared of being caught. By her friends. By her family in particular and thinking on what they were going to say. The consequences for both her and Jon would be extremely severe.

But even though her morals made her question the entire situation, her romantic nature was even stronger, overpowered any logical decisions she thought and allowed her strong emotions to overtake her.

She dismissed the thoughts from her head, not wanting to develop into them any further.

From where she was sitting, Sansa had the perfect view of everything in the library. She could see the librarian sneaking glances at the science teacher and putting away stationary into the large cupboard behind her. This also meant she could see the door and was aware of who was coming or going.

Melisandre had just walked into the room decked in red stilettos so high that Sansa was amazed she had not fallen and broken her heel. She rolled her eyes at the teacher, disdain arising in her body and went back to flicking the pages of her book while glancing at her watch for the time: 3:45.

The red-haired teacher selects a book from one of the bookcases and strode over to the main desk to check it out.

The librarian glances at the book curiously. " _Romeo and Juliet_ , that's an interesting choice," she states. "I never pegged you as a classical literature type."

Melisandre waved her hands, dismissing the statement. "I'm trying to get one of the English teachers to go on a date with me, and so I cannot be seen borrow a book from them. I need to understand their passion and likes if they're going to pay attention to me," she explains in her heavily accented voice.

Sansa's head snaps up, shooting a heated glare in Melisandre's direction.

_He doesn't want you._

"Oh, might I ask which teacher you"re trying to impress," the librarian asks with a high-pitched giggle, the sound of it making Sansa's lips curl in annoyance.

"Jon Snow," Melisandre smirks crossing her arms, her cleavage extending even further from her poorly hidden dress.

"I wish you well with him. They man doesn't have a chance when it comes to you," the librarian winks suggestively.

Sansa's jaw clenches tighter, her eyes skimming the same words on the pages, unable to concentrate.

Melisandre nods with a sly smirk, collects her book and strides out, her dress riding upwards every time she took a step. She purposefully wore dresses that were too short to be deemed appropriate. Sansa thought she liked the attention.

She peered down at her own skirt. It fell mid-thigh and was a black pencil skirt. It wasn't exactly going to win her a place in the nunnery, but at least she didn't look like a common stripper.

However, judging by the conversation, perhaps Melisandre wore short dresses with the intention to catch Jon's attention. The only satisfaction Sansa got was the fact that Jon's fingers had been inside _her_. And Jon felt attracted to her instead of Melisandre so he kept rebuffing her advances.

The same familiar accented voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Sansa. It's good that I found you here. Did you give the note to Mr Snow?" she asks peering down her intensely.

Sansa fought her primal urge to strike the woman in front of her. She had a running repeat in her head of the word _mine,_ every time she glanced at the other woman.

_He' s mine and you can't have him._

Instead she composed her features emotionless as possible. "I did," she replies shortly.

"And? Did he say anything?" Melisandre presses.

"I don't know," she lies. "I wasn"t there to hear."

Melisandre gave out an annoyance sigh, glancing at Sansa with irritation as if it was her fault. Without another word towards her she strode out of the library, her heels clacking on the floor with every step.

Hearing her steps in the distance, Sansa gathered her bag that was placed next to her, slung it over her shoulder and walked out of the room.

It was time to meet Jon for their date.

* * *

 

 Reaching the front of the school gates, Sansa peers around her and spots that everyone had gone home. She could not see Jon's car though, and the thought was making her feel worried. She bit her bottom lip nervously, wondering if Jon would stand her up.

_No_. She waves the thought away. Jon wouldn't do that.

From around the corner, a jet-black car pulls up in front of the gates. Sansa backs away slowly, not knowing who it was. The window slides down, and a jet of dark curls peek out.

"Sansa, get in," he beckons.

A smile upturns her lips, the butterflies in her stomach already growing stronger at the sight of him. Her body's reactions were always strong when it came to him. Walking towards his car, she looks around and sees that no one was observing her and stepped inside.

"Hey, Jon," she greets him, leaning over to give him a sweet kiss for a few seconds.

He looked dazed when she pulled away, his lips still puckered as if awaiting more. He shook himself from his stupor. "Are you cold?" he questions peering at the Goosebumps on her arms.

"A bit," she admits.

"Here, this should warm you up," he grabs his blazer from the back seat and throws it over her shoulders.

She smiles sweetly at him and pulls his jacket around her tighter, the weight of it providing her with comfort.

Jon gave her a tiny smile back, concentrating on the road ahead. She heaved a sigh, settling herself more comfortably in the seat, and he swallowed hard.

_The road. Try to concentrate on the road. Don't look at her legs._

"Can we listen to something?" Sansa asked suddenly. He reached out to the stereo to switch on the radio station, just as she did the same, and the brush of her fingers against his skin was electric. He pulled back immediately, still feeling her touch, a ghostly prickling on the back of his hand.

"Sorry," he said quickly, and heard her sigh.

Sansa watched him as he grasped the gear lever, thrusting it forward. Jon had rolled his sleeves up to his wrist, revealing the lower part of his forearms. Looking at his fingers she remembered how they felt that night, pushing through her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her, running over her body and between her legs, touching her. She bit her lip, her belly clenching with sudden desire.

Her thoughts then started to drifted to Melisandre, her jealousy rising quicker, especially since she had his jacket around her. Glancing towards Jon at the side, she felt the driving need to claim him as _hers_. As a warning to all of the other woman (and men) who would try to take him away from her.

She grabs his arm and turns him away from the car, slamming her lips upon his. His moan was muffled from her lips that were moving furiously against his. Despite his confusion at her sudden actions, his arms come to rest upon her waist.

His touch was driving her crazy as her mind began spinning, all thoughts of decency and logic thrown out of the window. All she could feel and concentrate on was Jon's lips and hands.

"Move your seat back," she whispered in between his lips, gratified at the heavy breathing her kisses had caused in him.

"What?" Jon asked weakly, and Sansa sighed, reaching down beneath his knees and tugging at the lever to move the seat. She shoved at him, pushing him as far back from the steering wheel as the seat would go, and scrambled into his lap before kissing him again, her hip wedged somewhat uncomfortably against the steering wheel.

"Sansa, what are you doing? Anyone could see us right now through the window," he argues.

"They won't," she retorts shortly. Perhaps it was her jealousy or her desire for Jon, maybe it was a combination of both, either way she could not bring herself, at this moment, to care enough for anyone to see them. She only had one objective in hand, and that was for Jon to understand, who he belonged to.

Her hands dropped to his waist, tugging at the buckle of his belt. She got the belt open, letting the heavy buckle fall to the side with a clinking sound, and unbuttoned his slacks, taking his member out from his boxers.

It felt warm to touch, and she ran her fingers down the throbbing veins, fascinated by how it looked. The only ever one she had saw was Joffrey's and his was completely different compared to Jon's. She gripped the bottom of his member firmly with her right hand. Â Her thumb ran over the head of his cock, spreading the precum she found there, and her abdomen crawled with want for him, her muscles clenching. She pulled her mouth from his, kissing along his jawline, the tip of her tongue teasing his earlobe and making him shiver.

Jon let out a strangled moan at the touch of her soft fingers. It felt better than any fantasy he could have conjured up in his mind or dreams.

"Does that feel good, Jon," she purred in his ear while moving her hand.

"Gods, Sansa," he growled, taking his hand and sliding it through her hair to hold her still while he kissed her. She made a squeak of acquiescence, returning his kiss and increasing the pace of her strokes for a moment before slowing again, pulling his foreskin up over the head before drawing it back down again.

She pulls away again to look into his darkened eyes. "Who do you belong to, Jon?" she asked sharply without stopping her actions.

"What..." he moans out in confusion, his head rolling back in pleasure. This did not satisfy Sansa.

"Come on, Jon. Answer the question," she says sweetly.

Jon knew he was seconds away from blowing his load. "You, Sansa. Only you," he groans.

"Good, now be _my_ good boy and cum for me," she encourages him, stroking him faster.

Suddenly, he could hold out no longer. With a cry, he felt the heat curling from his groin through his belly, his hips thrusting erratically as he buried his face in her neck and hair as he spilled in her hand.

Slowly, he came back to his surroundings. His head felt so fuzzy he could barely think, so he didn't. He simply breathed Sansa's scent in until he came back to himself.

"The next time any woman asks you out or tries to flirt with you, you'll think back to this moment and remember that you're mine," she growls, giving him one last kiss before grabbing tissues to wipe away the fluid from her hand.

Jon gazed at her in both amazement and confusion.

"Now I believe you promised me lemon cakes," she simply says, moving back into her seat to straighten out her clothes.

* * *

 

The bell of the shop door rang as both Jon and Sansa stepped inside; the warm air welcomed them with a coffee smell, mixing the smell of chocolate and cakes. The aroma was circulating the shop because the coffee bar was located near the left side of the door. The first attraction for Sansa was the baked foods. They were tidily placed on the transparent glass cabinet, lined up in a row. There were different types of cakes like blueberry cheesecake, chocolate cake and of course, her favourite, lemon cakes.

Sansa felt her stomach rumbling in hunger, Jon gave her an amused glance as he heard the noise. She gave him sheepish grin in return and curled her hand around his, walking up to the counter to pay for their desert.

Jon gives the elderly waitress a soft smile as he pays her for their food. Before turning around to face Sansa, he grabs their deserts and coffee off of the counter and then walks over to one of the wooden tables.

"I didn't know of this place," she states curiously while glancing around the shop.

Jon settles into his chair and takes a sip of his coffee, smiling at Sansa over his cup. "No, you wouldn't. It's not a place where most of the local people go."

"Oh, that would explain it," she realises. "The only coffee place everyone else goes is the one Margaery's older brother runs. Willas, I think his name is."

"It's good for us. It means no one will recognise us here," Jon explains, reaching over to grab her hand, running his thumb over it comfortingly.

Sansa gives a nod, taking a bite out of the lemon cake. "Whoa, this is better than I thought it would be," she raises an eyebrow, moaning in gratification.

"I told you it would be good," Jon grins over at her.

"Okay, you don't need to gloat over it," Sansa rolls her eyes.

Jon gives a shrug. "Just stating the truth." He pauses for a moment before a smirk rises on his lips. "So, you were jealous of Melisandre then?"

"I should never have told you about what happened in the library," she heaves a sigh.

"No, I'm glad you did. But like I told you before, I'm not interested in Melisandre or any other woman because I have you."

"So, you don't regret what we did in the car?" she asks nervously.

"I rather enjoyed it actually, in case you couldn't tell," he teases back, smirking when he saw her blush. His voices softened afterwards, "I don't think I could be with another woman other than you," he admits.

"Me too...other boys just don't seem to appeal to me anymore. I just want you, Jon," she looks into his darkening eyes.

"Good, because I'll rip the cock off of another man who comes close to you,"Jon growls, the sound of it settling in Sansa's stomach. She lets out a laugh.

A thought occurs to Jon. "Sansa, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," he says with furrowed eyebrows.

Sansa nods, waving her hand for him to continue.

Jon takes a deep breath, wondering how he was going to approach this. â€œA few weeks ago. The blonde-haired boy, Harry Hardyng mentioned something..." he trailed off noticing her dark expression.

"What did he say, Jon," she asks coldly.

"He mentioned someone you went out with; Baratheon I think his name was. You don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable," he said hurriedly.

Sansa let out a weary sigh. "No, it's okay, Jon. I've been meaning to tell you about him anyways." She looks up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Joffrey. That was his first name. He was my first boyfriend when I was a fourteen and I thought he was my prince like in movies."

Jon listened closely, noticing her eyes growing sadder at the topic.

"At first, he was charming, handsome and he treated me like the princess I thought I was at the time."

Jon's eyes narrowed, not liking where the story was heading. "What do you mean 'at first', Sansa?" he questioned.

"My sister and brother could see the warning signs of the type of person, Joffrey was. They knew that he was abusive," she whispered softly.

"Sansa, did he ever hit you?" Jon said in a deadly tone, his mouth pressed firmly together.

"Once. And that was what took me to see how fake he really was. He was always threatening to hit me, but that one time we got in an argument so big that he raised his hand and made me bled," she looked down in sadness.

Jon had to swallow the rage he felt burning in his body. His fists clenched, wanting to punch someone or something due to the image he saw in his mind, Sansa bleeding on the ground.

She continued her story. "After that I left him, but he wouldn't stop following me. Robb, my eldest brother found out and I had to hold him back from beating Joffrey up into a bloody pulp."

"You should have let him," Jon grumbled.

"His family was powerful, Jon. Robb would have been taken to court and I didn't want that ruining my brother's life."

"What happened then?" he asked.

"Somehow, Arya found out. I don't know how but she did, and she had gone up to Joffrey said something to him. To this day she still won't tell me what she said, but after that, Joffrey avoided me like the plague. He left this city because his father got a promotion and I haven't heard from him since," she shrugs.

"Good riddance," Jon mumbled.

"I hope you don't think of me any differently after that, but I'll understand if you do," she looks down.

"No, Sansa. I don't think of you any differently," he was quick to say. He pauses for a second before speaking. "You said he treated you like a princess?" he asks.

Sansa nods, glancing curiously at him.

"I wouldn't do that. I would treat you like a queen," he simply stated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a way to start of a date. Tops to Sansa.  
> By the way, tea is so much better than coffee.


	11. A Sharp Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone actually read this? If so then I hope you enjoy and thank you for the kudos and the reviews.   
> This chapter turned out to be longer than I expected. 
> 
> Sara.

There was that feeling in Sansa's stomach again, similar to the one she felt yesterday when she was with Jon, a soft of mixture between anticipation and electric tingles.

Early mornings were their own reward, she had come to find out. There was no drone of cars, or the hiss as they move over the street, and there were no loud voices from the neighbours unlike a typical day on the street. Even the sky wasn't gray, but soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colours merged into neon pink and peach.

Sansa stretched her limbs out from her pleasant and well rested sleep, and took her white duvet off before walking over to her bedroom window. Grabbing her curtains together, she pulled them open and was greeted by the rising sun. She had never watched the sunrise before, always preferring to catch a few extra minutes of sleep. But somehow, she felt as if she had missed out on something truly jaws dropping.

She had never noticed its beauty before. Jon was right, she thought with a soft smile. Sunrise really _was_ one of the most beautiful images to ever experience.

_Jon should have been here to see this with me._

For the first time in a long time, Sansa had slept without any worries over exams, university applications or the threat of moving away from her family. The only dreams she had were filled with a particular curly haired guy who made her stomach flip.

She let out an audible sigh, viewing the sun rise in the sky, before realising it was time to get ready for school. It was 7 'o clock, she had been watching for more than an hour, allowing her thoughts to drift happily.

She would see him today, as she had English for the second period, the thought which filled her with eagerness, hoping to see his handsome face. Grabbing her towel from the cupboard, she opens her bedroom door and walks out into the landing towards the bathroom, on the far end of the corridor.

Arya's room was across from hers, and she noticed that it was still firmly shut. She rolled her eyes, knowing her sister would not be up until their mother had to forcibly drag her out of it in order to get ready for school. Sansa's completely sure that if her mother did not undertake the task, Arya would miss school without realising it.

Padding along the landing she finally reached the bathroom, pushed the door open and walked inside. She walked leisurely towards the shower, and with the switch of the lever, the water came pouring down. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped inside and felt the water pouring down by her side, as her mind fades into dullness and everything becomes a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calms her; a soft smile arising on her face while her eyes closed. Her mind wonders, feeling as if she was standing under an everlasting waterfall.

_The shower curtain is ripped back and Sansa does not even flinch, too engrossed with the water cascading down her body and massaging her muscles._

_"Sansa," Jon sighs, exasperation clear in his tone. "What are you doing?"_

_She cracks an eyelid open and raises a brow at the same time, watching him. "Standing here."_

_His unusually darkened eyes flash down her body, all over her curves, down to her legs before flashing back to her face. "Sansa... oh, sweet girl."_

_She watches him, unperturbed by her nudity, as the water runs over her skin like a caress. Clad in his usual black slacks, with the standard white shirt with a grey collar tucked in (her favourite shirt), the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he takes a step forward and stands directly in front of her._

_Slowly, she raises a hand and cups his cheek, his beard rubbing against the palm of her hand, and leans close to kiss him gently. Feeling his hands glide over her water slick body, pulling her closer to him and disregards the fact that Sansa was naked and wet while he was clothed as he brings her deeper into the kiss._

_Sansa pulled back first. "We shouldn't be doing this," she murmured. "Not here."_

_Jon chuckled. "Little too late for that, isn't it?" the teacher asked with a dark smirk, wrapping an arm around Sansa while his free hand teased a thigh, lightly kneading._

_Sansa tried to refocus her thoughts into something coherent. "Bedroom?" Her hips bucked as Jon's skilful finger brushed her slit and rubbed at her clit for a few seconds._

_The dark-haired man leaned in closer to the red-haired beauty. "But I've got you right where I want you," he whispered throatily as his finger traced Sansa's opening. "Don't tell me you're worried about an audience."_

_He pushed one finger inside her quickly to cut off whatever the diva was going to say and Sansa's mouth worked noiselessly._

" _Jon...," the student breathed, rocking a little more forcefully onto his hand. "I-I really think-"_

" _Think what? I should let people know, let everyone see what they are missing? I bet every guy in school would love to watch Sansa Stark as helpless as she is for me," he pulled out briefly only to shove two fingers back into the tall girl._

_Sansa whimpered, jerking a little as her eyes rolled back and she gripped the collar of Jon's shirt a little tighter._

" _Look at you," Jon growled, pumping rapidly. "You can't even talk. You're speechless." He lowered his voice and brought his lips right up to Sansa's ear. "Does it get you off, knowing that a member of your family could walk in at any time and see you riding my fingers, completely desperate?"_

_Sansa mewled, hips pleading silently for him to go faster._

" _Knowing that I wouldn't stop no matter who caught us, and you would be so completely satisfied that you wouldn't even care."_

" _Close," she managed, sucking in air. "So close. Jon, please."_

_The teacher twisted his wrist, pleased with the moan that erupted from her. "Let's finish this, shall we?" Sansa nodded frantically, body tensing. Jon rubbed quick, tight circles on her clit._

"HEY! SANSA!"

A pounding on the bathroom door broke her out of her thoughts. With a startled expression, she glanced towards the closed door, and tried to calm the beating of her heart. She could make out the annoyed tone of Arya's voice behind the door.

"Hurry up! I need to use the bathroom. You've been in there for ages," Arya bellowed.

Sansa gave a sigh, irritated due to the fact that she wasn't able to finish her dream. "I'll be right there!" she yelled back.

"Okay, hurry! Mum's got breakfast ready. She told me to tell you."

Breakfast would not be sufficient enough to make up the dream she had been interrupted from. And with that thought, she reached her hand out and turned the leaver towards the cold temperature, hoping it would be enough to remove the throbbing sensation between her legs.

* * *

"Oh, Sansa dear! You're up, come help me set the table," the mother beckoned her, clad in an apron while she was setting the table.

Sansa walks around the table, picks up the cutlery and begins setting it.

"Your sister is becoming harder to wake up every morning," Catelyn frowns disapprovingly. "I don't know how she's going to manage in the future when I'm not there."

Sansa chuckles, picking up the plates from kitchen counter. "Don't worry, mum. I'm sure Gendry would love to take on that job. It's not like he would mind."

"Hmm," Catelyn muses thoughtfully. "I wish him luck. The poor boy doesn't know what he's getting into," she remarks.

"Who doesn't know what there're getting into?" Arya strode into the kitchen with her hair wet from the shower, and grabbed a piece of toast from the table.

"ARYA! Sit down on the table if you're going to eat. I don't want you making a mess in my kitchen," Catelyn purses her lips at her. She glances towards Sansa, "Thank you, dear for your help. You can sit down and eat your breakfast now."

Sansa nods and slides into her chair, and reaches out to grab a croissant to put on her plate. Arya rolls her eyes and also sits down on one of the chairs.

"You didn't answer my question. Who doesn't know what they're getting into?" Arya asks, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth.

Sansa wrinkles her nose in disgust at her sister's eating habitats. "Gendry doesn't," she answers sipping her orange juice.

Arya pauses for a second, her hand frozen while her face had a deer-in-headlights expression. She swallows nervously. "What about him?"

Sansa smiles sweetly. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering when you're going to tell him that you like him," she teases with a mirthful smirk.

Arya frowns in confusion. "Of course, I do. I wouldn't be friends with him otherwise," she furrows her forehead, giving her sister a peculiar glance.

Sansa raises an eyebrow. "Hmm, I'm sure you do," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, giving Arya a tiny smirk.

Arya did not like the way her sister was looking at her, as if she knew something that she didn't.

_Why did she mention Gendry? Matter of fact is, why do I get a weird feeling in my chest when anyone mentions that bull headed boy?_

Sansa expression was grating on her nerves. Narrowing her eyes towards her, she decided to tease her back.

"You can talk. Like I don't know about your crush on the older boy?" Arya drawls, pleased at the way Sansa's face paled. She noticed the way, Sansa's grip tightened on her fork.

She gave a nervous swallow before giving a chuckle. "Don't be silly, Arya. I don't have a crush on anyone. Besides I'm too busy with school to have a boyfriend."

Catelyn decided to join in the conversation, her eyes lightening up with joy at the mention of Sansa liking someone. "Sansa, you never told me that you liked someone. Who is this older boy you like? Do I know him?"

_You know him very well._

Sansa heaves a sigh, desperately wanting the conversation to move on and her heart rate to decrease. "It's no one, mum. Arya's just trying to avoid her crush on Gendry by attacking me," she glares at her sister.

Arya's face reddens in anger, she glares right back Sansa. "I don't have a crush on my best friend," she growls, a warning tone to her voice.

"Okay, enough, the both of you!" their mother butted in, trying to avoid a confrontation between the two sisters. "Just eat your breakfast and then, Arya, go and get ready for school. I swear, young lady, if I get another call from your teacher saying that you've been bunking your maths lessons, I'm going to have a word with your father," she warns.

Arya slumped in her chair, a disgruntled expression written across her face. Sansa had to bit her tongue to stop herself from smiling, relieved that no one developed the subject about her love life any deeper.

"Oh, and Sansa dear, if you do have a crush on someone, you can tell your family who it is if you want to. We'll support you," she encourages, smiling at Sansa.

"Thanks, mum but I don't have a crush on anyone at this moment," she answers, avoiding eye contact with her mother by staring at the food on her plate.

Catelyn stares at her for a second before nodding and turning to serve Ned's plate.

Sansa had to push the guilt she felt at the moment down. She and her mother had always been close, since she was a child and she had told her everything.

_Oh mother. Would you still support me if you knew that it was Jon I liked, and I was carrying out an affair with him?_  

* * *

Sansa sits on the edge of her plastic chair, barely listening to the steady buzzing sound of Jeyne talking in her right ear. She was waiting for Jon to walk in, her knee bouncing up and down in anticipation.

As the door opened, she spotted him, her heart jumping into her mouth. The teacher walked into the room with a certain bounce to his step. There was none of the nervousness about him that usually came with the young teachers, or the sternness that followed other teachers in the comprehensive. Ordinarily they shouted the odds from the start in some desperate and strained voice trying to follow the manual of teacher training college. But Jon treated them as if he'd known them his whole life and set about ordering his desk and papers.

Her eyes took on his classic black suit with the white shirt she had fantasized him in this morning. That thought made her flush red, and avoid Jeyne's eyes in case she noticed her reaction to Jon. Quite possibly, he dressed better than most teachers in the school, but somehow, he belonged in those clothes with his hair tied up and his beard neatly trimmed, looking as handsome as ever.

Jon was beaming at the front of the class, and Sansa fought not to reflect it back, knowing it would look suspicious to her friends, especially as they thought that she hated him.

Jeyne leaned over to whisper in Sansa's ear. "He looks hot doesn't he, Sansa?"

Sansa was close to agreeing with her, instead she turned her head sideways and ignored her, hoping for Jeyne to not notice her blushing cheeks.

When he opened his mouth to speak, much to the surprise of the class, they all fell silent.

"Good morning guys. I hope you you've been enjoying your morning so far," he beams around the classroom, his smile growing wider as he makes eye contact with Sansa. She blushes under his stare, the corner of lip twitching upwards.

The majority of the class were disgruntled and filled with annoyance at his cheery attitude in the morning, but Sansa found that she rather liked it. It made him look ten times more handsome (if that was even possible) than he was when he smiled like that. She just hoped he was happy because of her.

Jeyne leaned across to whisper in Sansa's ear. "He looks cheery, doesn't he? Do you think Mr Snow finally got laid yesterday?"

Sansa faintly blushes pink, her thoughts drifting to the scene in the car. "Jeyne! Shhh! He could hear you," she hisses back.

Jon didn't not seem to be paying attention to them though, but rather taking in the rest of the students and explaining the lesson for the day. "Okay guys, it's going to be a simple day today. You're going to be answering questions from the sheet, and then we'll have a discussion afterwards."

A select few of the students nodded, Sansa included, while the rest of them rolled their eyes. Jon still beamed brightly at them, as he noticed Sansa paying attention to him.

"Right then, Sam, could you pass the sheets out please," Jon beckoned him over. Sam nodded, walking over to his desk and grabs the pile of paper from Jon's desk.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Jon calls for the person to come in, and all eyes turn to the boy walking in gracefully. He was olive skinned with black hair, and had a mischievous smirk written on his face. Sansa thought he was handsome in an exotic way, she would have liked him if she had seen him at the beginning of the school year.

Most of the girls, excluding Sansa, drifted their eyes towards him, and they sat up straight in their seats.

Jon's looked curiously at the olive skinned male. "May I help you, young man?" he questioned.

The young boy in question glimpsed up at Jon, then glanced down at the sheet of paper currently clutched in his hand, his messenger bag wrapped around his shoulders. "Yes, I have a change in my timetable and instead of being in Mr Lannister's English class, the school decided to move me here," he smiled, Sansa could almost hear the dreamy sighs from the class.

Jon for some reason, did not look happy anymore. His smile had disappeared and he was looking blankly at the boy, before realising the class were waiting for his reply. "Right, what's your name?" he asked.

"Trystane Martell," he replies smoothly.

Jon hesitated for a moment, looking conflicted before speaking again. "Okay, Mr Martell. Take a seat beside Miss Stark."

Sansa's head snapped up, then glanced at the seat next to her. The seat was the only one left available in the classroom which meant that Jon had no choice. Trystane looked around before looking towards Sansa, giving a charming smile towards her as he slid into his seat.

Sansa gave him a friendly smile. "Hey, I'm Sansa," she whispers to him, not wanting to be rude.

"Trystane. But I'm sure you already heard that when I walked in," he smirks.

Sansa gave out a quiet laugh, deciding she liked him. He was charming and seemed quite nice. "Nice to meet you."

"You too. I hope we can become good friends," he remarks sincerely.

Sansa nodded at looked at the front of the class, noticing how silent Jon had become, gripping the marker pen so tightly in his hand, that his knuckles had whitened.

He broke out his thoughts, clearly his throat suddenly and looked around the class. "Right guys, get on with the work in front of you. We'll discuss about your thoughts and ideas in thirty minutes."

Picking up her pen, Sansa caught Margaery's eyes from across her, the latter's eyebrows raising suggestively, and motioning towards Trystane. Sansa gives her pointed glare and turns back around, hoping to concentre on her work instead of the heated stare she could feel from Jon, knowing that he caught their exchange.

The rest of the thirty minutes runs by smoothly, everyone getting on with their work. A few minutes later, Jon stops the class and asks them for their ideas.

"Okay, guys. Let's focus on the first question for now. _Discuss how age and youth affects the character of Romeo and his infatuation or love for Juliet._ So, what do we think? Gilly?" he asks.

"Sir?" she looks up at him in confusion.

"Do you think youth and age has something to do with the infatuation, both Romeo and Juliet feel?" Jon questions, placing both hands on the desk behind him and leaning back.

Gilly struggled to reply, and Sansa opened her mouth to answer, taking the end of her pen out of mouth. "I don't think it does," she blurts out.

Jon looked surprised, and glances over at her. "Oh, okay. Go on," he encourages.

"I just think that age doesn't have anything to do with the feelings that they both feel. Despite being teenagers, I think they are old enough to understand the passion they both experience. More so than the adults in the play."

Jon stares at her, a soft smile gracing his features. "You don't think that adults understand passion or be able to express their feelings, in a contemporary society?" he narrows his eyes almost teasingly.

"Some of them don't. Both character's families certainly do not. In today's society only the lucky ones choose to act on their feelings. The majority don't," she shrugs without breaking eye contact with Jon.

"And what happens to the people who don't act on their feelings?" he asks softly.

"They get very frustrated over time," Sansa smirks up at him.

A skinny blonde-haired boy cleared his throat loudly as if he was trying not to laugh, catching the attention of the rest of the class.

Jon looked angry, his soft expression hardening as he glowers over at the boy. "I'm sorry Lommy, do have anything to contribute to the class other than phlegm," he growls through clenched teeth.

Lommy turned run in embarrassment as the rest of the students snickered at him. He looked fearful as he glanced up into Jon's angry gaze. "I didn't say anything, sir-"

Jon cuts him off. "No, you were just clearing your throat loudly and disrupting Sansa's attempt to try and understand the play," he snaps.

"Sir I really didn't- "

"Really? What were you doing then?" Jon stares Lommy with a stony expression.

Sansa felt pity for the boy who must have been confused on why he was getting attacked by the teacher so suddenly. She slowly wilted into her seat, feeling her cheeks turn red in embarrassment at Jeyne's curious glance towards her.

"I-I really was just clearly my throat, sir..." Lommy answered weakly, avoiding eye contact with Jon.

Jon, himself, realised how silent the class was, catching Sansa's glare at him at the same time. He deflated in his anger. "Okay. Perhaps you can answer the question then?" Jon sighed.

Lommy looked relieved at not getting a detention. He nodded and continued to give his own opinion.

The rest of the lesson pasted smoothly with Sansa continuing her work and helping Trystane out in the process. When the bell rang for break time, the rest of the class filed out while Sansa stayed sitting in her chair, waving her friends off to go on without her.

As the footsteps of the last person ceased in the distance, Sansa stood and strode over towards Jon, a glare aimed at him. "What were you thinking, Jon? What was that? I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life; the rest of the class knew something was up."

He looked up from his papers on the desk and glared right back at her. "I was trying to protect you, Sansa. He was laughing right at you."

"I don't need your protection, Jon. You should learn to ignore him," she snaps.

"Just like _you_ should ignore the other boys in the class, instead of flirting with them," he mumbles.

Sansa closes her mouth, pausing for a second. "You're jealous," she looks at him in disbelief before growing angry again. "I was not flirting, I was just being friendly," she growls at him, crossing her arms.

Jon rolls his eyes. "But he was flirting with you."

"Oh, god's sake, Jon! He was just being nice, it's not like I was going to ignore him. Now if you excuse me I have a break time I want to enjoy," she turns on her heel and walks off.

Jon stops her before she can disappear. "You have to come after school, Sansa," he calls after her.

Sansa stops in her tracks. "Why?" she asks without turning around.

"Because of the extra tutoring session, remember? And no matter how angry you are with me, I'm not letting you miss out on a golden opportunity that will benefit your future," he retorts sharply.

She heaves a sigh, turns her head round, gives a nod towards Jon and walked out of the door.

* * *

Sansa was sitting on a chair in Jon's classroom, filling out exam questions in a booklet. Jon was sat on his desk, marking student work with a red pen. It was after school and she had turning up as expected, the anger from before had evaporated.

There was a knock on the door, and they both looked up towards it. An elderly man gingerly steps through the door. Sansa recognised him as the school caretaker and janitor, clad in a flat blue cap which he takes off as he begins to speak.

"The school is closing now, sir," the old man points out, and Sansa bit her lip. She was almost finished with the questions, only needing twenty more minutes which could make a significant difference.

Jon knew this, which is why he claimed, "We'll only be twenty more minutes."

The elderly man shook his head, pointing a frail hand behind him. "The only people left in the whole school is us three, everyone else has gone home which is something I need to do," he explains. He sticks a hand down his trouser pockets and takes out a key.

The janitor hobbles over towards Jon and places the key down in front of him, who glances curiously at it and then looks up at the old man. "What's this for?"

"That's the main key for the school. I've locked all the other doors and windows, and just left the side door open at the end of the English corridor. Just lock that on your way out, and don't worry about the security system. That comes on automatically," he clarifies.

"Thank you, but how do I get it back to you?" Jon inquires but the old man shook his head.

"I have another spare key, so just leave it on my tray in the staff room, tomorrow morning," he says.

Jon nods and thanks him again as the caretaker leaves the room. Both of them glance up and lock eyes, a shiver runs down Sansa's spine. She drops her gaze back onto her work and they continue in silence for another fifteen minutes, until all her work is complete and both their belonging are packed up.

Sansa brings her eyes up to meet his, and she swallows at his intense stare. "I'm sorry. I should not have been angry at you earlier today. I know you were just trying to protect me," she looks at him softly.

Jon shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry for acting like that. You were right, I let my jealousy take the better of me when I should have handled it better," he admits. "I'm just scared that you'll eventually realise that you want a relationship that won't make you hide in public."

"I don't want any of the other guys. They don't make me feel the way that you make me feel... like I'm experiencing an infinite amount of emotions all at once... it's kind of hard to explain," she struggles to explain.

Jon looks at her with a tender look in his eyes, a smile gracing his features at her words. "It's okay, Sansa. I know what you're talking about."

They both stay silent for two seconds before Sansa whispers to him. "Jon, I want you."

Jon's lips were on hers before she had time to think.

The lips pressed urgently against Sansa's lips, making her lift her arms and wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to her. He moves her backwards until her legs hit the edge of his desk. She lets out a soft moan as he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along her neck, pressing hot kisses and gripping the back of her thighs to lift her on his desk; the rest of the material is pushed off the desk with a clatter on the floor.

He found her sweet spot smirking in between his kisses on her neck as she let out a loud groan. His hands move upwards from her thighs towards her shirt, he clutches the top part of her shirt and rips downwards, the buttons scattering everywhere from his forced strength.

She also wanted to feel his bare skin on her hands which is why she opened his precious white shirt, feeling his muscles bunching against her soft hands. Her heart rate increased, her mouth falling open his hand ran up and down her body.

His hands then run up her body towards her bra, ripping it in the process; he was unable to focus on properly taking it off as he was too preoccupied.

"JON!" she yells, breaking the kiss to glower at him. It had been an expensive bra which she rather liked.

He rolls his eyes, and waves his hand. "I'll buy you another one, Sansa," he said in a gruff tone and leans forward to reconnect the kiss.

Sansa found she did not care much for her bra right then, Jon's lips cutting off her thought process. She reaches down for his belt buckle which she unbuckles quite quickly. She then proceeded to undo his slacks and he breaks apart once again to look at her in surprise.

"Sansa, are you sure about this? I don't want this to be something you regret," he stares at her.

"I'm sure, Jon," she nods.

He accepts her affirmation and leans forward to kiss her again, his hand reaching for her skirting and pushing it up to her waist, until he pulls away again to rest his hands on her hips. "Sansa, we haven't got protection. Are you on the pill?" he questions her, looking imploringly into her lust blown eyes.

Sansa shakes her head, but then remembers something important, a sly smirk uplifting her lips. "There's a condom in your top draw that you confiscated from Ros, remember?"

Jon looked at her straight in the eyes, both chest heaving from the frantic kissing. "Do you want me to get it?" he asks.

"Yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That ending though... (I hope you don't come for me with pitchforks)


	12. Fierce Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: I'm going to be on holiday for the few weeks so updates may not be consistent. I'll try to make the effort but I won't have a lot of free time on my hands. For this I apologise.
> 
> Sara.

Jon felt as if he had finally succumbed to insanity.

His head was spinning like crazy due to the intoxicating scent of her body pressed against his in this very moment. He was too far gone to turn back now, he couldn't will himself to move away from her, even if somebody walked into the classroom; the extreme need to devour her and make her _his_ , overtook every inch of his body, making the dangerous beast inside him roar in satisfaction.

He had never experienced this with Ygritte, his first love whom he lost his virginity to. That had been an experience with a friend he cared about, or in other words, a fleeting moment of curiosity.

With Sansa, however it was completely different.

He was all logic and feigned cool detachment until her skin touched his. Then something not only stirred in him, but it took over his thinking. The rest of his world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far recesses of his mind. The only thing that mattered was touching her more, kissing her mouth, her stomach, her breasts. He tried to be gentle with her clothing, not to rip the lace, but it was hard. His calloused hands were made for chopping wood and building homes rather than tiny clasps.

But, in the dim light of the classroom, the darkness quickly arriving through the window, Jon knew that she was a treasure to be worshiped and appreciated. He would dedicate his time making sure she knew that.

Sansa linked her fingers into Jon's hand and shot him a look that was filled with love, passionate lust and just the right hint of softness, a crease at the corners of her eyes that took his breath away.

He fought the urge to grin widely at her, as she gently pushed him towards his desk. "Go get it, Jon. I cannot wait any longer," she pleads to him.

He nods weakly, his resolve quickly weakening, and walked over towards his wooden desk, opening his top draw, his eyes flitting desperately for the needed object that both lovers were relying on. He would not know what to do if the condom was not there, a scenario he did not want to think about. His eyes caught the silver coloured package lying at the back, his hands reached out to grab it and then walked back to Sansa, already aching for his lips to be back on hers.

She was leaning backwards on the palm of her hands, her dark blue eyes trailing his figure, waiting for him to be closer to her again, her shirt wide open, exposing her breasts on show- a truly magnificent sight that make his arousal even more noticeable through his trousers.

Jon couldn't help but curse her legs- the features that started this whole situation in the first place- as he leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of her and reconnected their lips again, the package clutched in his right fist. Their lips fit perfectly- as if they were meant for each other, moving against each other, feeling one another. Jon grabbed the back of Sansa's neck, growling in the kiss as she whimpered in pleasure.

Sansa pulled away first- her lips swollen from Jon's kisses- and reached out to uncurl his right fist open, taking the package out of his hand.

He gave her a questioning glance, his expression dazed from the previous kisses. "You want to do it?"

She nods, reaching down her other hand into his boxers, feeling his hardness. "I do. But not yet," she smirks up at him, placing the small package on the table beside her.

Jon tilted his head to the side and locked eyes with Sansa as she whispered into his ear. A soft groan left his lips as one of her hands, threaded her fingers through his hair and the other gripped his member. "You tease," he moaned.

He looked down and watched as Sansa slipped her hand into the small slit of his boxers. "I can't help it," she husked, leaning forward and grazing her lips against his pulse point, his hips moving into Sansa's soft hand for any form of contact.

She shivered at the rough tone of Jon's moans near her ear as he rested his head against her neck. She curled her fingers around the hot, pulsating shaft of Jon's cock and stroked him slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "Does that feel good, Jon?" she asked with a penetrating stare.

He listened to what she was telling him, and could only feel his hardness growing by the second. His hips jumped as Sansa's hand pumped up and down his dick. "Fuck, Sansa...feels so good...you're amazing..." he trailed off, his eyes glazed over in pleasure.

Despite the situation, she could feel a warmth blossoming in her chest at his words. Her eyes softening for a second as she smiles at him, and then turned predatory. "Good, then you'll like this," she promised.

She got off the table and fell to her knees, her red hair flowing around her shoulders like a waterfall. She pulled back and tugged Jon's trousers and boxers down to his knees to release his erection.

He watched as she dropped to her knees in front of him, his cock twitching at the sight. He let out a slow breath when his erection was finally released from its confines, the anticipation building in his stomach.

"Oh," Sansa raised an eyebrow at the sight of his thick and pale length. He was bigger than she had imagined him to be, he wasn't monstrously big but he wasn't small either.

She parted her lips and slowly, while looking up at Jon, took the leaking head into her mouth, and suckled softly.

He moaned low as she took the head into her mouth, her right hand squeezing the end of his shaft. He had wanted this to happen for so long and now it finally was. And the reality was better than any dream he could conjure up. Jon saw the head of his shaft enter Sansa's mouth and he used all the will he had not to thrust himself in further; he didn't want to hurt her.

She planted butterfly kisses from his balls up to the tip of his member. She gave the head a few pecks and swirled her tongue around the tip. Slowly, she sucked on it like it was a popsicle.

Her head began to bob up and down, making Jon throw his head back in pleasure. His hands came up to tangle into her hair, guiding her a little.

Sansa was surprised that she liked it so much. Jon didn't make her gag by thrusting into her mouth or try to force her head to take down more, like she had overheard other girls complaining that their boyfriends did in the girls changing room. He kept his hands in her hair, lightly scratching her scalp but never pressurising her, it felt...nice.

He groaned loudly and tried to move her head away, but Sansa shook off his hands, keeping him in her mouth and sucking with renewed vigour. She knew what was about to happen, craving it regardless of not knowing how it would taste like.

With a soft grunt, pleasure rippled through his body as he tightened his grip on her hair and felt himself spill into her mouth. She sucked his member clean and let out a satisfied hum, sending waves down his shaft and it began to harden again. She let go of his cock with a 'pop' and looked up to him with a pleased smirk.

Jon glanced down at her through glazed over eyes, barely able to form words out. "Sansa...sweet girl, that was amazing," he said with a deep tone.

Sansa felt the wetness between her thighs grow, making her shift her thighs together in order to alleviate the ache. "Jon, I need you inside me," she glanced up at him pleadingly.

Whatever self-control he had, left him at that moment as he heard her words, feeling himself snap in the process. "Get on the table," he commanded, his eyes as dark as possible.

Sansa did as he commanded, a pit of heat burning in her stomach as she recognised the dark glint that shone in his eyes. He was using his teacher voice that he would usually use when he talked to the students.

His eyes glimpsed at the condom beside her before locking onto hers again. "Put it on me," he ordered. She picked up the package that felt weightless, tore it open with her teeth and rolled the object over his impressive length, before waiting in anticipation.

He gripped Sansa's thighs and hooked her legs around his waist- just like he had fantasized about doing in his dreams. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips before lining his member up with her entrance.

"Ready?" he asks, looking into her eyes for any doubts. She nods, clutching his shoulders and then he thrusts forward once, sheathing himself completely inside Sansa. "Oh, my fucking God," he moans, his mouth falling open at the tightness that surrounded him.

Sansa felt a slight burning sensation from not being with someone in a long time, and then she felt stretched while his member penetrated her, making her body stiffen for a moment.

"Oh f-fuck. Jon, I feel so full," she whimpered.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, but give me a minute, baby," she said and Jon stayed still until Sansa nodded her head, telling him it was okay to move again.

She wrapped her legs tightly around him and cupped the back of his neck to pull him in for a slow kiss, as she thrust her hips forward, encouraging him to move. "Move, Jon," Sansa breathed heavily, her lips never leaving his. "I need you to move," she moaned, as she kissed down his neck. "It feels so fucking good..."

Jon groaned and thrust into Sansa at a slow pace to start with. He kissed her back and sped up his hips as he found his rhythm. "It feels so fucking amazing, Sansa...so tight..."he growled through clenched teeth, hips moving at a faster pace.

"Harder, Jon," she demanded, connecting her lips to his ear.

When he felt Sansa's teeth on the underside of his ear, the force of his thrusts were harder. He pounded into her, the sound of their skin meeting ringing through the room, glad they were the only ones in the school.

"Fuck," she moaned out loud as her head tilts back with pleasure. "Faster, Jon!"

The more the red haired asked, more he gave her as his pace increased. Suddenly they both moving wildly, their bodies completely out of control. Jon could feel that Sansa was very close from the way her walls were closing in on him.

But when he reached a certain soft spot inside her, he smiled to himself, panting faster as he thrusted harder into her, slamming in and out, quick and fast. His fingers found her clit and he rubbed it relentlessly.

"Mine," he growled at her, a sense of possessiveness overcoming him as he realised how good she looked for him.

Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his dark ones. "Yours, only yours, Jon," she moaned, his possessive tone pushing herself over the edge. Her legs tightening around his waist as she threw her head back in pleasure, moaning loudly. She arched her body, lifting slightly off the table and cried out sharply as she spasmed around Jon's member.

He stopped his own impending orgasm just so he can watch Sansa have hers, admiring how beautiful she looked with the look of ecstasy written across her face. Then he slams himself deep inside of her, biting into her neck as he comes with a soft shout into the condom.

They remained still for a few minutes to catch their breaths, the sound of heavy panting slowing down, filling the room. Sansa nuzzled the side of Jon's neck, her fingers coming up to feel the softness of his beard, then running up to his hair.

He leaned back from her to gaze at her face, his dark eyes blown from lust. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked.

Sansa shook her head. "No, you were amazing, Jon. I-I never realised it could feel like that..." she trailed.

"You've never had an orgasm before?" he questioned, confused at the thought even though he knew that she was not a virgin.

"Not with someone else," she said shortly.

That's when Jon understood, and he gave her a nod. "We should get cleaned up," he suggested, pulling out of her and removing the condom.

"Here, use this," Sansa motioned to the tissues that were lying on his desk. He walked over to clean himself up, his shirt was still on which he buttoned up. He then tucked himself back into his trousers, and went to help Sansa.

She stood up from the table, pulling her skirt down in the process and then realised how shaky her legs were. She almost fell over before grabbing the edge of the table to steady herself. "Wipe that smug look off of your face, Jon," she rolls her eyes, noticing him watching her.

"I haven't said anything," he smirked. He spotted her shirt lying a few paces away from them, he picked it up and strode over to hand it to her.

"Thank you," she said, fastening her shirt, pleased to find all the buttons intact even though her bra was ripped. She looked over to find him fully dressed, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. She felt her mind picturing him naked, and felt a smidge of disappointment at his clothes being on.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were both dressed and ready to go. He offered to drive her home, claiming that it was faster and quicker, Sansa remembering her fear of the dark accepted and was now waiting in the car park. He had locked the door that lead into the building- just like the janitor had wanted him to, then they climbed into his car.

"Thanks for dropping me off," she glanced at him as he put his foot on the pedal and drove off.

"I wanted to," he gave her a tender glimpse, reaching over to put his hand on her knee and gave it a quick squeeze. He didn't move it after that, and Sansa linked her fingers through his throughout the rest of the journey, liking the comfort she got from his soft touch.

For the rest of the journey they talked about their families, Sansa told him about her siblings and how much she loved them despite them also annoying her.

"It must feel nice, to have grown up in a family so large," he looked at her curiously.

"Sometimes, but then it can also get a bit stressful. I don't know how my parents dealt with us growing up. We were a handful," she remarked with a fond smile.

He looked over to give her a squeeze of his hand, before announcing that they had arrived. He parked a few spaces away from her house in order not to create suspicion from the neighbours, or from someone peeking out from their window.

The car came to a standstill, and they both came to a silence. Jon turned to the side to look at her, contemplating on how he was going to say this. "I don't regret what we did if that's what you're thinking," he settled for.

Sansa looked over to him, surprise clear on her face. "I know you don't."

"Good because I'd hate for us to leave on a bad note," he admitted.

She gave him a soft smile. "Is this about what happened in class this morning. Because I've already forgiven you, we just need to be more careful in case someone notices," she furrows her eyebrows, a serious tone to her voice.

"We will, I promise. No more obvious mistakes...and I'll try to keep my jealousy in check," he sighed.

"I quite liked your jealousy in fact, you look good when you're angry," she smirked at him.

Jon gave a laugh, his eyes crinkling up before reaching over to cup her face and pressing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. He pulls back after a few seconds, his eyes opening. "Goodnight, Sansa," he whispers, his breath hitting hers.

"Goodnight, Jon," she whispers back, then climbs out of the car, blows him a kiss and then walks the last few yards home.

Jon watched her for a few minutes, seeing her walking through her front door, then he also made the drive home. He knew that his dreams were going to be filled with a certain auburn haired student of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have finally arrived at the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. This is the scene that most of you dirty minded readers wanted. By the way, this is my first time writing smut, so tell me how I did.


	13. A Mother's Intuition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! A thousand apologies for how long this chapter took to be upload. I've just come home to London from Austria and have found the time to write this. This took so long because of the lack of time I've had in the process of preparing my cousin's engagement. I literally had no time to myself to write; especially as I was living in my aunt's house with my parents, siblings, my aunt and uncle, and cousins. Needless to say, the whole house was full of chaos and fun as there was literally no privacy. (Think of the Stark family but larger seeing as I'm Asian and have a lot of cousins)  
> Despite this, I'm now back and the wait for the next chapter will not be as long as this.
> 
> By the way if you're interested on what my tumblr is, in order to ask me any questions then my tumblr is: myfoodishappiness.tumblr.com
> 
> Overall, I thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Sara.

Lyanna had never seen her son so happy, nowadays. Before, he used to brood constantly as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. But now, Jon was always smiling, she had noticed as she observed a constant glint of joy that shined in the corner of his eyes.

Whatever had made her son so happy, she only hoped that it continued to do so in the long run.

Quite frankly, she could not remember the last time she had seen Jon so happy- not since Ygritte. She was a brief presence in his life, but she had helped him develop into a much better, independent and confident young man. For that, she was grateful for Ygritte's strong and headstrong nature as it benefitted Jon in the long term. However, she was also his first heartbreak, and no matter how much a mother wanted to protect her son from ever experiencing sadness, she knew it was a part of life that he had to have gone through in order to become a stronger person.

As a mother, it is a beautiful thing to watch her son grow into a man of integrity, capable of giving strong love. To see him spread his wings, do right by those in his life, and strive to make the world a better place is the finest achievement she can experience. Any other achievement she had ever had in her life, by comparison is hollow: a fancy home, expensive clothing, a successful career. Love, in particular, love for her son is the only real thing she has a grip on in this crazy world, the only thing that is true sanity. So, when she looks upon her son's happiness she knows that he is a blessing to her, despite the type of father he has.

The only time, she had ever seen Jon been as joyful as he was now had been because of Rhaeger, in the early stages of his life. He had adored his father, always desiring to be in his presence, or lifted up into his arms.

Lyanna scowled in thought. _Before, Jon got to know Rhaeger for who he truly was. He saw through the façade of a caring father, and saw a selfish man, only interested in his own gains._

As a mother, she couldn't help but want to protect her son from the cruelty of the world, so he does not have to suffer much heartbreak but she knew that it was inevitable, no matter how much she wanted it to never happen. Jon was going to be heartbroken again, and this time because of a woman, if her suspicions were correct. She just hoped that it would not break him as a person, and he would be able to move past it.

Shaking the negative thoughts from her head, she glanced up towards the doorway as she heard the soft thuds of Jon walking down the stairs. She spotted his bed ridden curls- tousled from sleep- and grinning face from the doorway in the kitchen.

A soft smile arose on her face as she looked at her son's face, his happiness always left her in a good mood. "Good morning, dear. Breakfast is ready if you want some," she informed him, grabbing two plates filled with eggs and bacon and placing it on the table.

Clad in his plaid pyjama trousers with a white t-shirt, he grabbed the local newspaper off of the table, as he slid into the chair. "Thank you, mum. It looks good," he grins looking up at her, before scanning the front page.

"You're welcome dear." She glanced curiously at his face, noticing how his eyebrows furrowed in worry as his eyes scanned over the page. "So...anything interesting worth mentioning," she asked, picking up her own knife and fork off the table.

Jon turned his eyes to his mother, nodding his head. "Yeah, there is actually. Big news, as it concerns everyone in the country."

"Really? Go on, then," Lyanna encourages, her curiosity rising at his troubled expression.

"The police have reported a missing prisoner who is loose and on the run. They've said that he is an escaped convict, as well as rapist who is apparently dangerous," he explained with a dark tone to his voice.

Lyanna gingerly cut a piece of the bacon and placed the smaller piece in her mouth, chewing slowly. "Do they mention his name? And what has he been convicted for apart from being a rapist?"

"Mass murder. Of a whole town," Jon says, his lips curling in disgust, as he stared down at the newspaper.

Lyanna eyebrows rose in surprise, her eyes widening slightly. "Murder of a whole town! How did he manage that?" she exclaimed in surprise.

Jon gave a shrug, his eyes focusing back on the newspaper again. "It doesn't say, it only mentions the prisoner's appearance and to call the police immediately if you see someone who looks like him."

"Those poor people. Well, I hope they find him. People like that are a danger to society," she frowns worriedly.

Jon nods without looking up from the newspaper in his hands. "Yes...I'm sure they will..." he trailed off thoughtfully.

Lyanna narrows her eyes at a certain expression written across her son's face. "Jon, I don't want you to get involved in this sort of thing. This man is dangerous and you could get yourself killed if you go looking for him purposefully," Lyanna warns him, an edge of worry to her voice.

Jon's head snaps up towards his mother. "What makes you think, I'm going to look for this person, anyways? And what's to say that the prisoner even turns up near our area?" he demands.

Lyanna rolls her eyes, leaning back on her chair while crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Because I know you, Jonathan. I'm your mother, and I know that you cannot help this whole hero complex thing you have. And wherever there is danger, I always happen to find you there also," she explains to Jon, who stares up at her in disbelief.

Jon blinks slowly, his brain catching up on her words. "I don't have a hero complex!" he exclaims incredulously.

Lyanna lets out a laugh, a smirk upturning the corners of her lips. "That's what you concentrate on?" she teases him. "And you can deny it all you want to, but you do have it. Ever since you were young boy."

Jon stares questioningly at her. "What do you mean?"

"Do you not remember the small, gangly little boy, I found next to your side outside the head teacher's office when you were in year one?" she hinted.

Jon nods in confusion. "Well, what about it?"

"You don't remember punching the bully in the face because 'he was making the little boy cry.' Those were your exact words if I remember correctly. I didn't know whether to be proud of you or be angry."

"So, that doesn't mean I have that thing you mentioned," he argues.

"Or, how about the time you recused the bird from the tree when you were eight years old, because it's wing was stuck. Shall I go on?" she smirks at him.

Jon sighed wearily, feeling the tips of his ears redden in embarrassment. "Okay, you've made your point. You and Dany are both as bad as each other when it comes to teasing me," he grumbles.

Lyanna laughs out loud, before rearranging her features into a serious expression. "But all jokes aside, I don't want you to be looking out for this man like it's your job. Promise me, Jon that you won't go looking for him. I don't want you to be in danger," she warns him, staring intensely at him.

Jon shifts uncomfortably into his chair, sighing in defeat. "Okay, I promise I won't go looking for him," he vows.

Lyanna nods before turning back to her meal again. "So, tell me, what does he look like then?" she asks, curiously.

"They included a sketch of his face actually. Here let me show you," Jon says, turning the newspaper around for Lyanna to catch a clear glance of.

It was a rough sketch of a young man- possibly in his earlier twenties- but there was no mistaking his rough features. His nose was broad, his hair long and dark. His mouth was drawn as small, and wormy looking, as the drawn figure was smiling widely. His eyes were small, close-set, while the colour was like dirty ice.

_It was like looking into the eyes of a mad dog._

Lyanna gave a nervous swallow, a small shiver running down her spine. Even though it was a drawing, she had a feeling that the picture was an accurate representation of the actual person. She just hoped that the police caught him soon.

"Okay, I'll keep an eye out if I see someone like him on my way to work," she nodded, her body relaxing as Jon turned the newspaper away from her eyes.

"No," he sharply retorts. Lyanna gave him a question glance to which his eyes softened. "I just meant that if you do see someone like him, I want you to call the police first thing and then call me afterwards. Okay?" he sighs.

"I'm not a helpless woman. I used to do taekwondo in my younger years," she points out drily.

Jon laughs softly, his mouth fighting a smirk. "I don't doubt that, but you're my mother. I don't want you in danger."

"I know, honey. I promise that I'm not going anywhere. Not for a few years more years in fact," she jokes.

"Good, I hope so," he nods in acceptance of her answer before putting the newspaper down on the table.

A brief silence settled in the room, before Lyanna glanced at the clock in the kitchen with a quick glance, and then turns her attention back to Jon. "Isn't it time you got ready for class? You don't want to be late," she points out to him.

He gives a thankful nod before standing up to walk out of the kitchen. "Thank you, mum," he says and walks out of the room, a small bounce in his steps.

Lyanna didn't miss the way his cheeks went red at the mention of class, his eyes lightening up as he fought down keep a wide grin from his face. She knew that something had happened in her son's life to make him so happy nowadays. And judging from her mother's intuition (which had never been wrong in the past), she had a feeling that it had something to do with a girl.

If she was right, then Jon would never willingly mention whoever _she_ is to her. He was too possessive like that.

* * *

Her lips tasted like strawberries. It probably had something to do with the lip gloss she was wearing, he thought dazedly.

Those said lips were currently moving against his gently but also firmly. He was overwhelmed by the scent of lemons that clung to her figure, as he reciprocated her sudden kiss while his hands moved to grip her waist delicately.

It had been during lunch time that, he found himself in the auditorium preparing the script for the school's play, the students were going to perform in December in front of the whole school. The drama teacher had specifically asked him to write the script seeing as he was the English teacher in the school.

He was in the middle of writing the script when he heard soft footsteps from the distance. Glancing up, a wide smile came across his face as he spotted Sansa walking towards him with a pout on her face. It made him want to kiss it away but he resisted the urge...for now.

She towered over him as he was sat at the edge of the stage, his legs dangling off, as she stood at his side. "I wanted to surprise you when I came in," she pouts further, her bottom lip jutting out even more.

Jon gave a deep chuckle, his eyes glancing adoringly up at her. "Subtly is not in your nature, Sansa," he teases.

Sansa mouth drops open in mock offense. "It so is! And besides, I can be swift and subtle if I wanted to," she exclaims, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Well looks like we've got a new Bond around. Don't worry, I'll keep your secret," Jon drily states with a serious expression as he looks up at her.

Sansa narrows her eyes at him. "Did you just make a joke? You're not funny, Mr Snow," she points out.

Jon shrugs lazily. "I happen to think I'm hilarious as I've been told so often by my mother," he smirks.

Sansa gives out a mirthful giggle, her eyes lighting up with humour. Jon stared at her admiring the way her laughter made her look. Dropping her bag on the stage, she padded over to Jon and sat down next to him, her thigh touching his as her legs dangled off the edge of the stage.

The sudden attack of butterflies surrounded the pit of his stomach, and he gave a nervous swallow, concentrating on the blueness of her eyes which were sparkling with joy at this very moment.

She smiled at him softly. "Hi."

"Hi," he greeted back with a half-smile.

That was when Sansa leaned in to give him a soft kiss. He could feel himself stirring in his black trousers even with her gentle touch. He pulled back to glance at her. "Sansa...wait...anyone can walk in here, and I don't want them to catch us in such a compromising situation- "

Sansa kisses him to cut him off and then pulled back to look at him. "Relax, Jon. I locked all the doors so no one can come in. Besides no one knows we're in here. My friends believe me to be doing extra maths lessons," she rolls her eyes.

A thought accords to Jon as he looks at her inquisitively. "Wait. You planned this, didn't you?" he asked with an amused tone.

Sansa smirked at him. "Maybe I did. But I don't see you complaining when I was kissing you. Now shut up and kiss me," she demands teasingly.

"Yes, ma'am," he laughs as he connects his lips onto hers. All words in his throat died out, and instead resurrected moans as his hands came to rest at Sansa's hips. It was just as exciting to kiss her as it had been since the first time in the basement.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" he questioned against her mouth.

She pulled away. "You're ruining my spontaneity," she pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. "â€¦of course, I want to do it now. We have forty-five minutes left of lunch. That's plenty of time."

Jon lets out a sigh. "I've created a monster," he grumbles more to himself. "Wait here, I'll be back," he informed her.

Cold air kissed Sansa's cheeks as Jon moved behind the curtains of the stage. She would feel impatient if she wasn't curious, so she waited and listened to Jon rustle around boxes backstage. He emerged minutes later with what looked to be a picnic blanket.

"Why do you have a blanket backstage?" she asked furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"That is another story for another time, Sansa," he reached a hand out for Sansa to take, "right now, I just want to lie with you on this instead of the floor."

She took Jon's hand and him lay the blanket down on the stage. Jon sat down and patted the space beside him and Sansa obliged. Her thoughts left her as Jon gently pushed her on her back as he leaned over her, moving forward and connecting their lips. His lips left her comfort and trailed down along her jawline.

"You're so beautiful..." he whispered in awe, near her ear. The warm breeze dusted shivers down Sansa's spine. He let the lower half of his body settle against her intimately.

"Jon...please. I need you," she looks up at him pleadingly.

"What about protection," he asks weakly looking down at her.

Sansa shakes her head. "I'm on the pill this time. Beside I'm clean."

He gives a nod, his hands moving down to unbuckle his belt, zip his trousers down and take out his member. The heat that wafted from his hardness hit the cold air, and he almost moaned in relief. His hands moved to grip her school skirt- resisting the urge to rip it for all the torment it's given him- lifting it up to her waist.

Jon makes a highly embarrassing gut-punch noise. His eyes were fixated on the object in front of him; Sansa might as well be wearing no underwear at all for all the good her tiny little thong is doing. He holds the material away from her with his fingers and then, because he can't help himself, thumbs her clit just to watch her gasp and try to stay quiet.

"Seven hells," he grinds out-probably too loud for where they are- as she muffles her cries in his shoulder. "Seven _fucking_ hells."

He grips her legs, moving them to wrap around his waist. Jon shifts his grip around her thighs and pushes into her, biting his lip to stop himself from coming or crying out. She's so warm and perfect around him, with her fingers digging into the back of his head and her legs tight around his waist. He starts thrusting immediately, snapping his hips with urgency because he's not going to last but dammit, he's not coming before Sansa either.

She grazes her teeth against his neck and muffles her cries in the collar of his shirt, her hand wrapped around his neck, before snaking between their bodies to rub at her clit.

Sansa tightens around him and Jon's vision greys at the edges. He thrusts harder, gritting his teeth in the process. He moves his hand from her thigh in order to replace her fingers with his. Pushing against her clit, once, twice, three times, until she keens in the back of her throat, high and loud, and comes, sending him tumbling over the edge after her.

"Seven fucking hells," Jon moans again. He sounds like a broken record, but he can't think of anything else to say that comes close to what he's feeling now.

Sansa giggles breathlessly into his shoulder, the grip of her legs around his waist loosening. Heavy panting fills the room, with Jon pulling out of her with a soft moan.

They sat there for a few moments, catching their breath back before Sansa sits up, putting her skirt back around her hips. "Come on, Jon. Try not to look as dishevelled as you do now," she teases him.

Jon chokes out an almost hysterical laugh and fumbles to fasten his trousers, tucking his member back into his boxers. He gives Sansa a look that edges far too close to 'completely out of his depth' than he'd like, but she just smiles at him, flushed and pleased and not at all mocking. Before cupping his jaw and placing the gentlest of kisses on his cheek.

He felt his heart rate speed up at her touch, his palms felt sweaty. "We still have the last fifteen minutes of lunch left to ourselves," he points out, lifting his wrist up to glance at his watch.

"It should have been longer," Sansa mumbles.

Jon gives out a small chuckle. "Come on, Sansa, you can help me with this script I've got to write for the school play," he motions to the pieces of paper lying off towards the side of the stage.

Sansa sighs. "Okay, but only if you promise to take me out for food later on," she says with a smile at the edges of her mouth.

"I promise," he grins widely before moving off to grab the pieces of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True Fact: I got hungry when writing about food in this chapter and ate afterwards.


	14. The Bond Between Brother And Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter filled with sibling bonding, and sprinkle of Jon added into it.  
> Not my best chapter, so please point out any errors. 
> 
> Sara.

It is well known that most families have a tradition. These traditions can be the most simplistic things to do together such as eating, or the it can even be something expensive. Most people in the world loved taking part in these traditions while others hated them. It depended on the age a person was; the older they were, the more they disliked taking part in a tradition.

This was also true for the Stark family as a result. A family as old as the Starks would definitely undertake a tradition, and for them it was having a meal together at the old café near their house. Sansa recalled her father telling her that the café was old even when he was a little boy.

Despite the dreary appearance of the café the Stark siblings relished coming to the place, especially as children would receive chocolate cake for free, if families visited. However, as time passed along, the wonder of free chocolate cake dampened until, Arya and Bran gave up completely with this trip to the café each month, due to the lack of time they had to go anymore, whether it was work or school they were swamped with. Sansa, on the other hand, did not mind the family tradition especially as it was spent with her older brother, Robb, whom she barely got to see for most of the year. Her favourite time of visiting, in particular was in the winter, the ones that made the cold days feel cosy, sitting in a heated café with her siblings, eating apple pie with vanilla ice-cream; the traditional flavours were usually the best.

It used to be a fun occasion when the Stark kids were younger, a part of the month in which childhood and innocence just existed, and they would just enjoy talking to each other without the heavy weight of adulthood in the back of their minds. But the thrill of the occasion ran out a few years ago when most of them grew up and found the whole situation tedious. Thinking about it made Sansa wish for the days of her youth.

Nowadays, it was mostly just Sansa and Robb, (with the rare company of Bran sometimes) who would carry on the tradition, neither one of them having the heart to stop it completely. And if she was being honest with herself, even though she would never admit it out loud, these trips to the café with her brother were her favourite part to look forward to each month. More so now, as her time with Robb was so limited seeing as she would be moving abroad for university next year, and she would see him even less; she grasped every opportunity she could as to spend more time with him before a change came in her life.

This was why she found herself standing on the pavement opposite the little café, from across the street, gazing at the sign of the entrance. She'd been so lost in her wondering that she was surprised to see how far both her and Robb had come since they'd left the house. Already the café was in sight.

There was nothing physically special about the building, no fancy fonts or white writing etched upon the glass. You could pick the whole thing up and send it back thirty years and it would not look out of place. There were not any tables with fancy umbrellas, just the uneven pavement baring the cracks of age. It was huddled despondent among the huge city buildings, as it stood under the overcast sky, hunched in itself, fighting against the cold November air. Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street. The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colourful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrants and the cold breeze was forgotten.

Sansa's hands reached upwards to remove her scarf and hat, letting out a breath of air and turned to look at her brother.

Robb gave her a sideways glance, the tips of his ears coloured as red as his hair. "Do you want to sit by the window?" he asked her, motioning towards a square table with two seats, stood by the centre of the café window.

Sansa looked over and nodded. "Sure," she agreed and they both walked over, seating themselves comfortably into the wooden chairs. Grabbing the bright menu off of the table, Sansa opens it, her eyes scanning over the bold printed words. "So, are you going to get the usual then?" she asks casually without taking her eyes off.

Robb looks up, scrunching his forehead. "Obviously. Aren't you getting what you normally get?" he asks with a raised eyebrow in her direction.

Sansa's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe not. I might try something different today," she mentions casually.

Robb felt confused. "Why? You've always got the bacon cheeseburger; do you not like it anymore?" He paused considering something before speaking again. "Wait. Is this some new healthy diet thing you're trying out or something because Margaery recommended it?" he asked.

"No, I just want to try something different. Is there something wrong with that?" she rolls her eyes in exasperation.

Robb shakes his head before turning back to his menu. "No, just that you haven't changed your meal here ever since you were a kid."

"Yes well, I want to try something different. Now, are you ready to order?" she looks up at him, placing her menu down on the table. She removes her elbows from the table and sits a little straighter. From the corner of her eye, Sansa catches a young woman staring at them, her lank mousey hair falling in ribbons above her colour-drained t-shirt. In her hand is a small writing pad and a biro, instantly indicating that she was the waitress.

Robb gives a short nod and beckons the waitress over. Sansa observed how startled she became, her face turning red as she bustled over to the to their table nervously. It seemed as she was new, judging by the nervous twitch she gave when her brother gave his order to her, and due to the fact that Sansa had never seen her before in the café.

The new waitress kept fidgeting on the spot, making Sansa think rather disgustedly, whether it was because Robb was talking to her. Whenever she went somewhere with her brother, he always attracted so much female attention, which made her wonder as to _why_. Without coming up with a solution, she just put it down onto life's many my unsolved mysteries.

The waitress shifted her eyes at her reluctantly, Sansa noticed, inwardly rolling her eyes. "Can I have the club melt, please," Sansa said, not forgetting her formalities.

The waitress kept shifting her eyes backwards and forwards between her and Robb. "Sure. I-I'll be right back with your orders shortly," she jotted down their orders and went behind the counter, clenching her fists tightly in her hands. Sansa felt sorry for her as she stared back at her oblivious brother who barely gave the nervous waitress a second glance.

She felt her phone vibrate from her pocket, making her glance down, alerting her to a received text message. Digging it out of the jean jacket, she taps the screen awake and checks her text messages-holding her breath when she sees Jon's name in bold at the top of the list.

**Jon:** _Hey, sweet girl. I hope you're enjoy your time with your brother. Thinking about you when I'm marking these papers. :)_

She hoped that her face was not flushing red, at this moment. Biting her lip in order to keep a wide grin from breaking out she quickly texted him back.

**Sansa:** _Thank you, Jon. Thinking of you too :)_

She shoved her phone back in her jacket, concentrating her attention to Robb who was glancing curiously at her. "So, how's school?" he asks leaning back on his chair, stretching his legs out until it hit Sansa's on purpose.

Frowning she pushed his legs out of her way before giving out an amused smirk. "Really? That's the first question you're going to ask?" she raised him an eyebrow.

Robb held his hands out in defence. "Hey, I'm the one trying to initiate sibling bonding over here, now answer the question," he points a finger at her.

Sansa pauses a moment, mentally preparing herself on how to truthfully answer his question without giving much away. "School's great, I'm really enjoying it at the moment," she settles for, knowing it wasn't far from the truth. She really _was_ enjoying school at the moment, or rather a certain dark-haired teacher at school.

Robb grins at her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. "That's good. Have you thought about what you want to do after school then?"

Sansa lets out a sigh, "Robb, I already told everyone that I wanted to go to university abroad. In fact, I mentioned this to you last year when you came to visit," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"Yes, but _where_? Abroad is a broad term, I thought you were supposed to know that, being a literature student," he teased, crossing his arms across his chest.

Sansa glares at him. "Shut up, I do know what that means. And to answer your question, I was thinking Volantis, maybe," she shrugs, gazing curiously at him, wanting to see his reaction.

Robb furrows his eyebrows. "Volantis. That's quite far actually," he looked surprised. "You know mum is going to be crying for months after you leave," he points out to her.

"I know, which is why I need you to be there to comfort her when I leave. Okay?"

Robb nods his head. "Yeah, I'll be there don't worry." A slow smirk spreads across his face. "Aww, they grow up so fast. I remember when you were starting year one in with pigtails," he drawled teasingly.

Sansa sighs, wishing she could erase _that_ memory from her mind. "Oh, be quiet, Robb. It's not as if you had a bowl haircut when you started school. I specifically remember how the kids teased you for it, and you came bawling your eyes out to mum."

Robb's smirk disappeared, a scowl quickly appearing on his face. But before he could open his mouth to retort something back, the waitress appeared in front of them with a tray of their food, making Robb forget whatever he was about to say, much to Sansa's satisfaction.

_Men, and their stomach._

Picking up his knife and fork, Robb starts shovelling food into his mouth, making Sansa wrinkle her nose at him in disgust while also taking a sip of her drink.

Robb eats food like it's going out of fashion and spends half his life in the gym. Now that his teenage years are gone, as well as the spots she so clearly remembers, he's got girls lining up to date him. At home, he used to be her nemesis, poking fun at her morning and night. No embarrassing secret was untouchable between Sansa and her other siblings as well. But, she also reminisces on how at school, he used to be her big brother, the one who shut her early bullies down when the teachers said that it was 'just kids having fun.' He walked her to class everyday so another repeat of Joffrey wouldn't occur, warning all the other boys in the school as a result.

He was her worst enemy and best friend all in one neat package, she felt a pang of sorrow, at the fact that he was going to be leaving next week to go back home with Talisa.

His voice broke her out of her thoughts. "What's wrong with you? Aren't you hungry?" he asks furrowing his eyebrows at her, noticing her uneaten sandwich.

Sansa cleared her thoughts from her mind. "Hmm, oh nothing's wrong. Anyways, how are you and Talisa doing?" she picked up her sandwich and gave a bite.

Robb swallowed the food in his mouth and gave her a grin. "We're great. She really makes me happy. I don't think I've ever felt this way before with anyone," he admits with a thoughtful gaze.

"That's good to hear. Two years, it's been. So, any plans with her and you in the future then?" she hints to him, gazing at his expression for any clues.

Robb shrugged, picking his drink up and taking a sip. "Not that I know of. I mean we are moving back to our chosen house next week, if that's what you mean."

Sansa gave a sigh, inwardly rolling her eyes at how oblivious her brother was to Talisa hints towards him. At this rate, even Rickon would have known what Robb girlfriend wants instead of her own boyfriend.

"So, what about you? Any mystery guy in your life you failed to mention to your brother?" he narrowed his eyes at her, changing the subject.

Sansa shifted nervously in her seat. "What do you mean?"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, Sansa. Do you really think I'm as dumb as Arya says I am? Actually no, don't answer that question," he quickly says, noticing the smirk on her face. "But really, you're going to avoid this entire subject?"

She gives out a nervous laugh, her elbows digging into the table. "I don't know what you're talking about, Robb?"

"Yeah, well what about the older guy that Arya mentioned that you had a crush on?"

Sansa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Oh, that guy. I already told her that I didn't have a crush. She just made that up to avoid talking about her feeling for Gendry," she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's good," he nods in relief before narrowing his eyes again. "Wait. What about Gendry? I thought she said that she didn't like him," he frowns in confusion.

Sansa sighs in frustration at the obliviousness of her brother. "Never mind, Robb. Just eat your food," she points at him.

He gives a shrug, turning back to eating his food. dismissing the thought from his mind. "Okay."

They both sat in silence for a few seconds before Robb glanced up at her, opening his mouth to speak. "Oh, by the way you know your English teacher, Jon?"

Sansa froze in her seat, her eyes quickly shifted to Robb's face. "Jon?" she hoped her voice didn't come out as a squeak.

"Sorry, you probably know him as Mr Snow. Well, I was wondering whether you'll be able to pass on a message from me to him when you see him."

"Why would I see him? And since when do you know him?" she clenched her fork tightly in her hands.

Robb gave her a peculiar glance. "Because you have lessons with him, obviously. And because we met at dinner, don't you remember," he rolls his eyes. He carries on talking before Sansa could say anything. "So, can you tell him that instead of my parents coming for parents evening, I'll be coming instead."

"You're coming to parents evening..." she repeats weakly.

"Yes, I just said that, Sansa. Come on, keep up. So, can you tell him or not?" he gazes at her expression.

Sansa nods weakly, her stomach too tightly wound up in nerves to coherently speak. As her brother beamed at her, she had to push the feeling of guilt that was swirling around in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Americans parents evening is parent- teacher conference in case if you needed clarification.


	15. Suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you all for the reviews and kudos.  
> My tumblr is: myfoodishappiness.tumblr.com
> 
> Sara.

The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed like an orchestra of deadbeat droids. The voices of the students in the courtyard flew over her head, as she blinked down at the book she currently gripped in her hands, and yet- she could barely concentrate; her eyes repeatedly scanning over words for several minutes.

Her stomach was a pit of nerves as she woke up this morning. _How are we going to do this? I feel like I'm going to be sick._ She purses her lips, firmly staring at the black printed ink in front of her.

"What's wrong, Sansa? Why do you look so troubled? Something happen to your favourite character?" a voice teased, the suddenness of it, breaking Sansa out of her thoughts.

Sansa broke out of her trance, her head snapped up to glimpse at the intruder. Her best friend Margaery stood in front of the wooden school bench- Sansa was currently perched on- with an amused expression.

"Oh, hey Margaery," she greeted tiredly.

Margaery frowned at the half- hearted greeting. "What's wrong with you? Did you not get enough sleep or something? Too busy studying?"

Margaery was half right at least. Sansa could feel her headache- that appeared this morning- throbbing each second that passed, increasing her irritation levels.

"Something like that..." she shrugged in reply.

"Sansa, you barely look as if you brushed your hair this morning," Margaery peered closely at her.

"Hmm, oh...do I really look that bad this morning?" Sansa frowned worriedly, sitting up in alarm as she wondered about her appearance; in the process, she reached out to grab her school bag beside her as she looked for her mirror.

Margaery eyed her friend in worry, her behaviour becoming more unusual than ever. "Sansa, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Sansa barely looked up from her school bag she was currently going through, scowling as she realised that she probably forgot to put her mirror in her bag this morning. _Too busy worrying, that's why._

"Great. Now I've forgotten my mirror and hair brush," she grits her teeth angrily, giving up her search.

"Hey. It's okay," Margaery soothed her, removing her own bag from her shoulder and taking a seat next to Sansa. "It's okay, Sansa. Here, you can use mine." She took out her own mirror and brush, handing it out to a weary Sansa who gave her a thankful glance.

Sansa reached out to take the objects, feeling emotionally drained all of a sudden. "Thank you, Margaery," she sighed.

Margaery nodded comfortingly. She contemplated on how she was going to approach this. "Sansa. Are you sure that you're okay? You can come to me with anything you're worried about, you know that," she pointed out slowly, focusing her doe eyes intently on Sansa's expression.

Sansa sighs jadedly, running her hands over her face. "I know, Margaery. I'm sorry for being so out of it, I guess."

Margaery narrows her eyes. "It's okay. We're all have our bad days. Is it to do with your family? Is it Robb?" she asked softly, not wanting to trigger her friend into tears.

Sansa was silence for a second before speaking. "No...well...not really," she answered vaguely, making Margaery furrow her eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh?"

"It's probably just the stress that's getting to me. I mean it is the last year before university," Sansa glances at Margaery from the corner of her eye.

Margaery looked at her for a few seconds, not utterly convinced with her answer but chose to let it go. Sansa fought the urge to squire nervously in her seat, her fists tightly clenched around the handle of the brush and mirror.

Margaery lets out a sigh before plastering a soft smile on her face. "You work too hard, sweet girl. Make sure you don't tire yourself out from studying too hard," giving Sansa a pointed look.

Sansa nods in acceptance. "I won't, don't worry. You know how I am when it comes to studying," she let out convincingly.

Too convincingly in Margaery's opinion. However, she did not want to distress her friend any longer than she had to and so changed the subject, wanting to take Sansa's mind off of her problem. She knew that something was happening in her friend's life that had caused her act quite pellicular these past few weeks, as Margaery had noticed. Sansa acted weird nowadays, as if there was something on her mind; she just didn't know _what_. And with that thought, Margaery made a metal note to herself, vowing to keep a closer eye on her best friend.

She sat up straight, peering intently at Sansa while giving her a half smile. "So then, how's Robb by the way? What day is he moving back?" she asked.

"Robb's the same oblivious person he's always been. Nothing's changed about him," Sansa rolled her eyes playfully before taking on a disheartened expression. "He's going back next week."

Margaery gave her a sympathetic look. "That's tough. I couldn't imagine being aware from my brothers for that long," she took on a thoughtful gaze.

"That's because your grandmother would drag them back by the ear if they were gone for so long," Sansa laughed.

Margaery was glad Sansa did not look troubled any longer. She let out a smirk in reply. "Personally, I feel as if she wouldn't mind if Loras disappeared for so long. Calls him a great blithering fool just like my father. I think those were her exact words."

Sansa snorts in reply before Margaery spoke again.

"By the way, Willas was asking about you recently," she pointed out.

"Oh, he was..."

"Yes, he said that he doesn't see us around his coffee shop any longer. I told him it was because you were busy with _studying_ and all," Margaery raised a sculpted eyebrow, observing how her friend shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Sansa was silent for a few seconds before speaking. "Well...we should go soon. I haven't seen Willas in forever and we could bring Jeyne as well," Sansa suggested.

"So, Jeyne can flirt outrageously with my older brother," said Margery dryly.

"You know what I mean," Sansa gives her a pointed glance.

Margaery nods in acceptance. "Yes, what about the day after tomorrow? We can even make it a study session. You can take all the books you want to," she encouraged.

"Studying with both you and Jeyne hasn't worked so well in the past," Sansa rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"It wasn't out fault," she defended.

"Yes, I'm sure playing music very loudly in a library wasn't your fault," she deadpans.

"Look, I promise we'll try harder this time. We haven't hung out in a long time and... I just miss my best friend that's all," Margaery said truthfully.

Sansa sighs, her resolve weakening. "Okay fine. We'll go, but keep in mind that I'm only going for the coffee that Willas makes."

Margaery smirked knowingly. "Whatever you say, Sansa. Now come on, there's a few minutes left before class, and I want to show you the guy that Jeyne's been crushing on," she stood up from the bench.

Sansa raised an eyebrow. "Didn't she already show us already? That guy in the year below us?"

"No, she got over him pretty quickly. She's crushing on someone different now. Some football player," Margaery shoved her hands into her coat pocket and waited for Sansa to get up from the bench.

Sansa let out a small smirk, grabbing her bag, placing the book inside and swinging it over her shoulder as she stood up.

"Come on then. Show me who he is."

* * *

 

Jon picked the coffee up from on the staff room table with tight pursed lips. He had been expecting enough heat to bring him out of his winter slumber but instead it was tepid like old bath water. He winced as he took a sip- it was overly bitter and lacking real cream. But, it was a source of caffeine though and so he drank like a sailor new to whiskey.

With a sigh, he put the mug down on the table and picked up his book. However, before he could actually open the book, he was interrupted by a voice that made him want to groan out loud- he resisted the urge.

"Jon, I was hoping to come across you actually," the voice of Melisandre came close to his ear, he fought the urge of scowl at her face- his mother did teach him to be respectful to all women.

"Melisandre. Did you want something from me?" he asked shortly, not wanting to long out the conversation between them.

Despite mostly being oblivious to the desires and wants of women, Jon was no fool in noticing that Melisandre was interested in him. But, no matter how much he had hinted to her that he was not interested, she never really seemed to care- always making up an excuse to talk to him or finding subtle ways to touch his arm or hand. Her mere presence seemed to buzz around him like a fly that you can never swat. Every word, movement and breath she performed seemed to infuriate Jon to no end.

"Yes. Principal Mormont wanted me to hand out these letters to each teacher, for them to give to the students," she peers at him, handing over a handful of sheets towards him.

"Just leave them on the table," he motions with a wave of his hand. "Thank you," he considered as an overthought.

"You're welcome, _Jon_ ," she simply stated, still not moving from her position in front of him.

Jon shifted uncomfortably, clenching his teeth slightly as he fought the urge to tell her to get lost. He hated the way the red woman said his name, almost as if she thought she was being seductive. If Jon wasn't head over heels for a certain red head, he might have found Melisandre's advances flattering; but at this moment he had to restraint himself from glaring darkly at her.

He glanced up with a raised eyebrow. "Was there something else?"

Melisandre paused for a few seconds before opening her mouth to say something. However, before she could say anything, a booming sound echoed throughout the staffroom. Most of the other teachers in the staff room peered over their coffee mugs to shoot dirty looks at a certain bearded man.

"SNOW!"

Jon had never been so happy to see Tormund in his entire life as he bundled over towards him from across the room. Melisandre gave Tormund a disgruntled expression and turned around to walk back towards the other teachers. Letting out a sigh of relief, Jon turns his head towards Tormund's amused expression, giving him a look of gratefulness.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, Snow?" he asked gruffly.

Jon rolls his eyes. "Don't start, Tormund."

"Hey, it's not my fault that the red woman wants to touch your pretty face," the gruff man smirked.

Jon frowns at him. "My face is not pretty," he reaches out a hand to pat his hair down.

"Your face is prettier than both my daughters combined. What's the matter with the woman anyways? She got red hair, hasn't she? Just your type" Tormund cackles.

Jon scowls at him. "She's not my type," he snapped.

Tormund peered at him curiously. "What's the matter with you, pretty boy? You on your monthly?" he teased.

Jon sighed inwardly. He liked Tormund, he really did, but sometimes the man was too crude and made fun at his expense. But, he was the only person who he felt comfortable around in the school. Despite the man's blunt and crude nature, Tormund did have a good heart and just wanted his students to do well.

"Nothing's the matter, Tormund," he rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Tormund beamed in reply, approaching the seat next to Jon and throwing an arm around his shoulders, much to Jon's utter embarrassment.

"Oh, lighten up, Snow. No need to be such a gloomy bastard all the time. Especially not with so many beautiful women in the world," he laughs out loud.

Jon scrunched up his face, and reached out to remove Tormund's arm from his shoulders. "I'll take your word for it."

Jon's mind couldn't help but drift from Tormund's words. _There certainly is a beautiful woman in the world._ He smiled softly to himself and sighed internally, and possibly externally because Tormund gave him a confused glance. He was spared from the gruff man making a comment as the bell ran at that moment.

Jon stood up from his seat. "Well, you heard the bell. I have a class to teach."

He nodded goodbye to Tormund and walked out of the door, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets as he walked.

* * *

"Remember guys to read chapters five and six for next week. And do _not_ just read the chapter summary from cliff notes," Jon warned the students currently walking out of his classroom.

After the last few students left, he was the last person left. Picking up the cloth and cleaning spray, he started to wipe away the remaining pen marks left on the whiteboard. His brain decided to remind him of the last time he was in a situation like this.

Sansa's legs were all he could think about for the next few days, and how it looked when she stretched on the chair to wipe the top part of the whiteboard. It seemed as if whatever he did, his mind always decided to remind him of Sansa. Not that he minded.

The sound of his classroom door opening made him snap his head around, and smile softly at person whose thoughts just occupied his mind a second ago. However, the smile slowly slid off Jon's face as he noticed her troubled expression.

Meanwhile the figure in the school hallway, narrowed their large brown eyes dangerously as they leaned against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter won't be as long as this one.


End file.
